She Handed My Ring to Her Assistant,I Handed Her a Divorce

There was a tradition in the village: if you weren't married by thirty, the elder would arrange for you to come back and meet potential matches.

When I told Felicity Pruitt about it, she let out a cold laugh.

“What is your village, some kind of medieval cult?”

“Ashton Whitfield, I told you I'd marry you and I will. But pressuring me into it is a whole different thing.”

She pulled out the ring and handed it to her assistant without a second glance.

He took it, his face flushing red.

“I was going to propose. But since that's how you feel, let's take some time to cool off.”