She stepped forward. Closing the gap between us on her own terms, her hand lifting to my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my jacket like she needed something solid to ground herself against.
Her voice, when it came, wasn’t steady.
But it was clear.
“Je t’aime,” she cooed, the French soft but certain, her gaze locked on mine in a way that didn’t allow for anything else to exist.I love you.
The room shifted again—sound pressing back in at the edges, cameras catching up, voices rising—she didn’t look away.
Didn’t let go.
Her other hand came up, framing my face, pulling me down just enough that the space between us disappeared entirely as her mouth met mine.
It wasn’t careful.
It wasn’t restrained.
It was everything she’d been holding back breaking loose in one clean, undeniable moment.
The room detonated.
Voices rose—questions, shouting, movement—cameras flashing in rapid succession, the sharp bursts of light cutting through the space in staccato bursts that should have pulled us back into it.
They didn’t.
She pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead brushing mine, her eyes still bright, still wet, still completely, devastatingly focused.
“Yes,” she sang, the word landing between us in English now, deliberate, unmistakable. “I’ll marry you.”
The rest of the room disappeared.
Her hand slid down to mine, fingers threading through mine with a certainty that settled something deep and solid in my chest.
Around us, the noise surged—questions thrown over one another, names called, flashes going off in rapid succession.
None of it touched us.
I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers, closing the last fraction of distance until the only thing I could feel was her breath against mine, the warmth of her skin, the steady, undeniable presence of her right there.
In front of me.
Choosing me.
Out loud.
For all of them to hear.
For all of it to see.
“Stay with me,” she murmured, the words soft, almost lost beneath the surge of voices rising around us, but I felt them anyway—felt them in the way her fingers tightened in mine, in the way her forehead pressed just a fraction closer, like she needed to be certain I was still there.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
The truth of it settled between us immediately—quiet, solid, unshakable.
Not this time.
Not ever.