The storm Vanessa tried to brew blew out faster than it came.
And in its wake, Lucy and Miles found themselves… quieter.

Not because anything had broken.
But because sometimes, after you stand firm, you realize just how much you want to choose that person again and again — no matter what tries to pull you apart.

---

It was late, and Nook had long since closed for the evening.
Lucy sat curled up in a window seat, barefoot, a blanket thrown over her lap.
Miles lounged across from her, a cup of coffee in his hand, even though he rarely drank it this late.

Neither spoke for a long time.
The silence wasn’t awkward — it was heavy with something unspoken but powerful.

Finally, Lucy broke it.

“I’m not afraid of you leaving,” she said quietly, staring into her tea.

Miles set his cup down carefully.

“I’m afraid of loving you so much,” she whispered, “that if life ever takes you away… I don’t know what it would do to me.”

Miles’s chest ached at the vulnerability in her voice.
He crossed the space between them in two strides, sinking down in front of her.

“Lucy,” he said roughly, “I’m not promising you no storms. I’m promising you I won’t run.”

She blinked rapidly, fighting tears.

“And maybe,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “it’s time I prove that.”

He pulled out a small, square box.
Simple. Understated.
Very Miles.

Lucy’s breath caught audibly.

Miles opened it — and inside was a ring, delicate but strong, a single stone gleaming.

“Marry me, Lucy Mitchel,” he said, voice thick with emotion.
“Let’s not waste another second pretending either of us is the kind of person who loves halfway.”

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks now.
Not from fear.
From sheer, overwhelming joy.

“You stubborn, impossible man,” she whispered, laughing through her tears.
“Of course I will.”

He slid the ring onto her finger, and it fit like it had been waiting there all along.

Miles pulled her into his arms, and when their lips met, it wasn’t soft or tentative.

It was the kind of kiss that said —
We fought for this.
We bled for this.
We choose this.

Again and again and again.