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Nimisha Ajaikumar is a counselling psychologist from India who writes stories to explore the complexity of human emotion. She regularly writes fiction and poetry on Medium, and nonfiction on her feminist blog, Silence the Stigma.
Promise Ring
Jul 04, 2025 11 months agoMy boyfriend and I met in college, and when we started dating, I told him plainly: we either get married, or we break up if things don't work out. I was done searching. I wanted love, yes - but only the kind that stayed. He didn't flinch. "I want the same things too," he smiled, flashing his baby brown eyes. It was the last chance for him to give me the ick so I could ghost him before I got too attached. But he passed the test. I never looked back after that. Within a month, he told me, laying his head on my lap, "Marry me." "We're just 22," I chuckled, twirling his curls. "We're not ready yet." "I hope you'll wait for me, then." A year later, on our first anniversary, he ordered a cake. Inside it was a ring. I'm an introvert, so I just sat there gaping, one hand over my mouth to stop myself from reacting too loudly. It was a silver ring with a red heart-shaped stone- simple, thoughtful, and feminine. He slipped it onto my finger, and I couldn't stop giggling. We were at a restaurant, and I was too shy to kiss him in front of people. "I can't afford gold right now," he admitted. "Save that for our engagement," I replied, staring at the ring now snug on my left ring finger (that I religiously wear daily). It felt like a contract - quiet but binding. It wasn't just a relationship anymore. It was a promise: that we'd grow old together. That he wanted to propose but knew it was too early. That even without an official engagement, we were building something real, something that mattered. That even if we're young, even if life gets in the way, we'll take it one day at a time - together.
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