Just for her.
I hear footsteps outside the door.
I don’t hesitate.
I drop to my knees, open the box, and wait.
The door opens.
Raelyn steps in, a book tucked under her arm, hair loose, glasses slightly crooked. She’s mid-smile when she sees me.
Then she freezes.
Her breath catches.
“Konstantin…?” Her voice trembles, unsure, afraid I might disappear if she says my name too loudly.
I look up at her, heart bare, unarmed in a way no battlefield ever managed.
“I know we’re already married,” I say quietly. “I know the vows were said and the papers signed. But that night—” My jaw tightens. “That wasn’t what you deserved.”
Her eyes shine, tears gathering fast.
“You cried,” I continue. “And not because you were happy. And I promised myself I would never let that be the memory that stayed with you.”
I lift the ring.
“So I’m asking you again. Not in fear. Not in blood. Not in survival mode.”
She drops the book. It hits the floor, forgotten.
“I’m asking you as the man who will give you peace. Choice. Joy. As the man who loves you more than his own breath.”
Her hands fly to her mouth. She sinks to her knees in front of me, tears spilling freely now.
“Yes,” she sobs. “Yes. Of course—yes.”
I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly. Her hands shake as if she can’t quite believe this is real.
I pull her into my arms, holding her like this moment is sacred—because it is.
“We’ll do it again,” I murmur into her hair. “A real wedding. Light. Music. No guns. No fear.”
She pulls back, forehead resting against mine, eyes wet and shining.
“And this time,” she whispers, voice breaking with joy, “I’ll cry because I’m happy.”
I kiss her—slow, reverent, certain.
Not a vow forged in chaos.
But a choice.
A beginning.
“When do you want to get married?” I ask, my thumb brushing over the new ring like I’m making sure it’s real.
She hums thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the ceiling as if she’s considering the weather.