“Mahasin, why are you crying, baby?”
Her voice came out soft, almost a whisper. “I’ve always been successful. If it was a competition, I was number one. If it was a group effort, I was Beyoncé. My parents beat success into me everyday breathing, and God blessed their visions for me. But I never prayed for myself, never told Him what I wanted—until I realized all I wanted was to be loved.”
She wiped at her tears.
“Not parental love, I had an abundance of that. But loved by a man… a partner, a protector, someone to call my person. And by the time I admitted it, I figured I had maxed out on blessings. I dated loser after loser, wasted so much time giving myself to men who didn’t deserve me.”
“Mahasin, baby, I didn’t mean for this to make you—”
She cut me off, her eyes blazing through her tears. “Hunter, just listen. You made me realize my blessings weren’t maxed out—I was just waiting on the best God had to offer. I love you, Hunter Knox. You complete me, baby. And if you can promise to always protect my heart, to love me, provide for me, and pray with me—.”
This woman was perfect. I was supposed to be the one confessing my love, making her feel like the sun only rose because she opened those beautiful maple eyes of hers. And somehow, she ended up making me feel like the man my mama raised me to be. She awakened the royalty buried in my blood, passed down from my ancestors who survived and thrived so I could stand here.
This woman was my Queen.
“Mahasin,” I interrupted softly. “From the moment you bumped into me and called me a dummy, I knew you weren’t like anyone else. You don’t need me to complete you—you’ve always been more than enough, no matter who came and went.” I lifted her chin.
That crown of hers should always stay raised high.
“With all the losses you’ve taken in your personal life, you still chose to show up and succeed in your professional life. Every day, you bring joy to the people around you—not just your patients. You are the prize, Mahasin.”
Her tears spilled faster, her bottom lip trembled.
I swallowed hard, the words pressing up in my chest like they’d been waiting for this moment.If only she knew the one truth I still carried… but not tonight. Not yet.
“Through the good and the bad,” I went on, “you are who I want. No woman has ever made me feel small in the best way—like I need to rise just to be worthy of you. You push me, Mahasin, just by being you.”
Her eyes locked with mine, and the rawness of the moment hit harder than any staged Valentine’s Day dinner. Fuck the reservations, the roses, the overpriced champagne—none of that meant shit compared to this. No cameras, no strangers clapping on cue, no script to follow. Just the love of my life, her tears providing the electricity that made my heart feel like it was pumping out of my chest, and her vulnerability spilling over in my hands. I’d give up everything in my portfolio for this woman, and she’d still never have to want for anything with me.
And then—I did what I should have done long before. I dropped to one knee.
I’d have to admit, though… secretly slipping an engagement ring on your lady’s finger while fucking her through an orgasm? Dope as fuck.
Her breath caught, a sharp little gasp that echoed in the quiet room. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as I held her trembling hand, the ring glinting in the candlelight. For a moment, the world went still.
“Mahasin Noelle St. James,” I said, my voice steady but my heart racing out of control, “will you marry me and make me the luckiest man alive?”
“Yes!” she cried out, her voice breaking as she laughed through her tears.
I shot up, pulling her into me. Our kiss was hungry, desperate, full of every promise we hadn’t said out loud. She wrapped her arms tight around my neck, whispering my name against my mouth like a prayer.
Life with her as my wife felt like a blessing I never thought I’d come across. For all her success, she was still humble, sweet, kind, and caring. I could list a thousand things I loved about her and still not scratch the surface. I craved her in the small moments—her laugh when watching reruns ofMartin, as if it were her first time watching it, tugging on my ear as her way of soothing herself before she fell asleep, the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.
I didn’t just want Mahasin—I needed her. She was air in my lungs, the pulse in my veins. Without her, everything I was about to walk away from would be for nothing. With her, I’d give it all up without hesitation. I would make sure she had everything she wanted, living a life of ease and prosperity until my last breath, and even after that, I’d still find a way to love her.
No one could make me see her as anything less than perfection. No one could come between the love we share. Because of my loose ends, they will talk, they will scheme, they will drag my name through the dirt—but it wouldn’t matter. I’d fight every story told, silence every doubt, destroy any wall that tried to stand between us. And if “no one” ever made herquestion what she meant to me, I’d spend every breath proving them wrong. Because loving her wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity.
No one could ever write a forbidden chapter in our love story. No one. Except my current wife.
Mahasin
Mahasin St. James (soon to be Mahasin Knox)
Hunter and I have been engaged for a little over two months now, and the emotional high I’m on can’t be contained. We’ve been going over everything, life insurance, finances, and even what our future children’s lives might look like. He was thoroughly impressed with how I managed to pay off my student loans and open my private practice, and I let himbask in the glory of my success. What I wasn’t about to do was admit that theBank of Mommy and Daddycleared those loans.
It was a deal I made with them: if I earned my white coat, they would cover my education. Graduating at the top of my class secured my residency at Havenbrook University Hospital and completing that program landed me the private practice—something my father blessed me with as soon as I hung up my residency badge.
My engagement to Hunter wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t five o’clock news either. The important people knew—Amber, my parents. As a matter of fact, my parents knew in January because Hunter asked my father for my hand. They just thought he proposed on Valentine’s Day, and I hadn’t gotten around to correcting them.
