But every night, we came here, came home. Curled up on the couch where I’d read and he’d sketch and we’d listen to old records. Every night was thick with I love you’s. Every morning, his was the first face I saw, the first thought in my mind, the first name on my lips. And that perfect life I’d abandoned seemed so empty, so vain.

The perfect life was the one I had.

Georgie barked again, and I met Kash’s gaze. He’d asked me if I was ready. And I gave him the answer I’d always give.

“Yes.”

His big hand closed over the doorknob to our apartment and turned, Georgie dashing in the second there was enough space to wiggle through. Three days ago, we’d headed to the Plaza with Georgie as the finishing touches were put on our home. It’d been Kash’s idea to splurge in celebration of our renovation completion and our successes, citing the anticipation would make the reveal that much sweeter.

And as usual, he wasn’t wrong.

The apartment was lit by candles, golden and flickering in the dark. Someone—Tess, I was certain—had staged everything. The last of our furniture had been delivered, the art finally hung, every detail, every corner pristine and perfect.

But I barely saw any of it. Because in the bay window stood an archway of flowers.

White and cream, layers on layers of soft petals. Feathery grasses, roses, orchids and lilies and a wealth of perfumed florals, all in a spotless shade of snow, lit from below by candles all over the floor.

A brief concern regarding fire hazards blitzed through my thoughts, but when I looked at Kash, my worry fell away. Nothing bad could happen when he smiled like that.

He took my hand and guided me toward the arch.

“What is all this?” I asked, eyes above me as we stepped beneath the curve.

“This,” he started, drawing my gaze, “is forever.”

Kash glanced above us, his smile fond as he looked over the flowers he’d likely grown, knowing each by name.

“Arches and doorways have their own magic, their own mystery. Moving through them, standing beneath them, we are in the in-between, the twilight, the passage. There’s an unspoken danger, the threat of being lost or forgotten. It’s why a husband carries his bride over the threshold—so he can protect her from any harm, any pain. It’s all I want—to shelter you from harm, to give you the happiness you’ve given me. I want to step into that life with you. Because together, we can survive anything. I promise to carry you through life, to comfort and protect you. To keep you safe. You asked me once what my passion was, and I’ve finally found it. It’s you.” He lowered to one knee, stopping my heart. “Will you marry me, Lila?”