Chaos erupted. Our families broke out into fights while I stood there, stunned. When I finally got home, I found his note on the counter. Keep the ring. Sell it to fund your little cooking hobby. The same “embarrassingly stupid” hobby he’d belittled for years. And now he was telling me to fund it with a ring I helped pay for.

Fine. I crumpled up the note and spent all night finally planning something I’d always dreamed of doing: starting my own french fry business.