Didn’t step back.
Didn’t break.
She held her ground, her breath catching once more as I stopped in front of her, close enough now that everything else—the lights, the voices, the pressure of the room—fell away at the edges.
Blurred.
Irrelevant.
The noise didn’t matter.
The room didn’t matter.
None of it did.
Not anymore.
“I don’t have a ring,” I sighed, not meant for the room but carrying anyway because nothing in this space stayed contained. “That part will be handled.”
A flicker—shock, disbelief, something breaking clean through the control she’d been holding together since she walked into this building.
Good.
Let it.
I held her gaze, steady, unwavering.
“Mais il n’y a aucune raison d’attendre,” I continued, the French slipping into place without effort, natural, deliberate, becausethere’s no reason to wait.
Her breath hitched.
Not subtle.
“Veux-tu m’épouser?” I asked.Will you marry me?
For a second—just one—the world tilted.
Not around me.
Around her.
I saw it happen in real time.
The fracture.
Her eyes filled immediately, tears slipping free before she could stop them, tracking warm and unguarded down her cheeks.
She didn’t wipe them away.
Her first breath came uneven, catching halfway through like her body didn’t know what to do with it.
Everything this could cost her.
Everything she had built.
Everything that could still fall apart.
And then—something else. Stronger.