I laugh softly, nerves bubbling into affection. “Baby, you gotta wait at least afewseconds until the waterworks.”
“I can’t,” she hiccups, clutching the strap of her tote like it’s keeping her upright. “Are... are you proposing?”
I blink. Then glance down.
Yup.
Ring box.
In hand.
Completely unhidden.
Smooth, Lucian. Real smooth.
“I mean,” I sigh dramatically, “Iwastrying to be subtle. Build a little mystery. But apparently stealth isn’t my strong suit.”
She starts giggling through her tears and walks toward me—slow, careful steps like she’s afraid I might disappear if she moves too fast.
I don’t wait.
I drop to one knee.
And she gasps—hands flying to her mouth, eyes wide and shimmering.
“Baby—”
“Oh my god.Oh my god.”
“Don’t interrupt me,” I grin. “I only rehearsed this five times this morning.”
“Yourehearsed?”she squeaks, blushing.
“Baby. Look at me.”
She does. She doesn’t even glance at the ring. Her gaze is all mine.
Locked. Adoring.
God, I love her.
“I’m not going to pretend this started perfect,” I say, voice thick. “You know better than anyone howbadlyI messed up. How long it took me to become someone worthy of your love.”
Her eyes glisten. Her bottom lip trembles.
“But you gave me that love anyway. You gave me your forgiveness. Your heart. Your laugh. Your trust. And your veryquestionabletaste in slippers.”
“Hey!” she sniffles through a giggle.
“I want all of it. For the rest of my life. The rants. The nose scrunches. The moments you walk around with your hair up and a pen sticking out of your bun.”
She’s laughing now, crying too hard to be quiet.
“Marry me, Rohi. Because I need to put your name on me in hennaone more time.”
She makes a noise that’s somewhere between a sob and a squeal.
Then starts nodding furiously. “Yes!Oh my god, yes. Yes, yes, yes—obviouslyyes.”
