Love Measured in Ring Size

Summary

In my seventh year with Tristan, I still hadn't married into the Foster family.

He said I had to be able to wear the ancestral ring to become Mrs. Foster.

Over those seven years, I'd gone from having a perfect figure to becoming a walking skeleton.

Before each ring fitting, I'd only dare sustain myself on water for days.

But ninety-nine fittings, ninety-nine failures.

The night before the hundredth attempt, Tristan gently circled my ring finger and sighed softly:

"When will I finally be able to marry you?"

My eyes welled up with tears, and I secretly scheduled a bone reduction surgery.