Julian didn't move. He stood there, watching me, his expression unreadable. The bookstore had never felt this small before. The warm lights, the wooden shelves, the quiet murmur of customers - everything faded into the background. It was just me, this stranger, and the silver band on his finger.
The ring. Daniel's ring.
I forced my breathing to steady, but my hands still trembled.
"Where exactly did you buy it?" I asked again, my voice softer now, but still sharp.
Julian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like I said - Chicago. A flea market. A vendor selling old trinkets and jewelry."
"Which flea market?"
He hesitated.
Something flickered in his eyes, a shadow of doubt, before he answered, "West Side Market."
A chill ran down my spine.
That was the same neighborhood where Daniel had vanished. His car had been found abandoned near a convenience store just a few miles from there.
This wasn't just a coincidence. It couldn't be.
I swallowed hard. "When did you buy it?"
Julian exhaled through his nose, clearly uncomfortable with my interrogation. "A little over a year ago."
A year. That meant the ring had been floating around somewhere for four years before ending up on Julian's finger.
Where had it been before that? Who had it? How had it made its way from Daniel's hand to a market stall?
"You must think I'm lying," Julian said, his voice quieter now.
I did. But I also wasn't ready to accuse a complete stranger of something I couldn't even begin to explain.
"I don't know what to think." I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the way my pulse hammered against my ribs. "It just… doesn't make sense."
He studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Why do you think this belonged to your husband?"
I let out a shaky laugh. "Because I bought that ring myself. Because I remember every detail - the little scratch in the center? That happened on our honeymoon when he scraped it against a rock while we were hiking. The way it's slightly loose? That's because Daniel never liked tight jewelry."
Julian looked down at the ring as if seeing it for the first time. "I never really noticed the scratch before," he murmured.
My throat tightened.
Of course, you didn't. Because it was never yours.
"You said you don't know who my husband is," I pressed, searching his face. "Are you sure?"
Julian lifted his gaze back to mine, his gray eyes unreadable.
"Yes."
A lie. Or at least a half-truth.
I wasn't sure how I knew, but I did.
A silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
Finally, Julian exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. "Look, I don't want to cause any trouble. I didn't mean to upset you. If you want the ring back, take it."
He started to pull it off.
But something inside me screamed no.
Not yet.
I needed to know where this led first.
I held up a hand, stopping him. "Keep it," I said before I could even think. "For now."
His brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"
No. Not at all.
But if he kept it, I had a reason to keep talking to him. A reason to keep digging.
I nodded.
Julian studied me, his expression unreadable again. Then, after a long pause, he nodded too.
"Okay."
The moment stretched between us again, thick with things unsaid.
Then, he took a step back. "I should go."
Panic flashed through me.
"Wait."
Julian paused, tilting his head slightly.
I scrambled for an excuse to make him stay - to find out more. "Let me at least buy you a coffee," I blurted out.
His lips quirked slightly, almost like he found me amusing. "You don't have to do that."
"I want to." I forced a small smile, though my heart was still racing. "It's not every day someone walks in wearing my missing husband's wedding ring."
Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding.
"Alright," he said.
I turned toward the café counter, hoping he didn't notice how unsteady my hands were as I grabbed two cups.
As I prepared the drinks, I stole another glance at him.
Who was he?
And why did I feel like meeting him today was going to change everything?