Now that I was finally getting married, did I really have to settle for a less than brilliant version of an engagement ring?

And if I returned to Singapore without a ring, what would bind us till we met again?

That was when a brainwave hit me.

Whoever said it had to be a diamond engagement ring?

Let's get wedding bands instead, I announced brightly to H.

He didn't say no.

It was easier to get wedding rings.

At a shop called Swansea Goldsmiths, we found a matching pair.

They did look rather too gold and too thick and old-fashioned, but I was too relieved to care at that point and he was too tired from the shopping to protest.

And so I went back to Singapore feeling very happy. I couldn't stop admiring my ring, and when we Skyped, I got a thrill seeing his ring on his finger.

He came to Singapore three months later as the wedding preparations were underway.

There was still the question of the engagement ring.

Because we were already wearing our wedding rings, an engagement ring for me seemed pointless and we kept postponing going out to get it.

Let's forget about the engagement ring, I said.

Really? You sure, he asked.

Oh yea, I said. It's not important. We're getting married soon anyway.

But inside, I still hankered for one. I'd always wanted one. A nice one. Why wasn't he giving it to me?

I was passive-aggressive about wanting then not wanting the ring, leaving him confused. It led to some silly arguments.

In the end, he got me one. Not some fancy multi-carat version from Cartier or Tiffany - because the ring was now an after-thought, it did feel like a waste of money - but a simple one from Mauboussin shaped like a flower with small diamonds and in white gold.