Han Xin's hand froze mid-air, his fingers trembling slightly. "You're pushing it," he said, his voice clipped.
Xiang Yu pouted, his lips curving into a soft, exaggerated sulk. "But that's what married people do. They put on the rings and kiss. You said we'd be a real couple."
Han Xin's jaw tightened. He didn't want to keep compromising, didn't want to keep bending to Xiang Yu's whims. He could feel himself slipping, inch by inch, toward becoming a henpecked husband—a fate he was fighting with every ounce of his will. With a sharp motion, he smacked the ring onto the table.
"Wear it or don't. I don't care." His words were cold, final. Without waiting for a response, Han Xin turned and walked away.
