When she met him, he had a ring around his finger that he never took off. When she realized it was etched into his skin, ink as permanent as his existence, she asked if he was married. He laughed.
The ink said "Helen," woven into a ring by his knuckle, and he told that Helen was the love of his life. She wanted to be jealous, she wanted to feel resentful, but he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair while he told her the story of Helen, Queen of Mycenaean Sparta, and a love so fierce that Paris fought a war to keep her.
"So many things in life are mediocre," he told her while her fingers traced the tattoo. "Helen reminds me that love should never be one of them."
She didn't know the exact moment that she fell in love with Jonah, but if there was one, that was it.
When the new boy on her couch asked her about her tattoo, he asked her if she had traveled to Paris or studied abroad in school. Maybe it was the way he had assumed her motivation, maybe it was because the ink was