"Appears so." He moves closer. "What do you want to do?"
"Honestly? I want to shower without rushing. Maybe eat a meal sitting down. Sleep for more than two hours consecutively."
"Those are all excellent goals. Very ambitious."
"I'm a dreamer."
"One of the things I love about you." He touches my face. "But Lena? Before we do any of that practical stuff?"
"Yeah?"
"I need to ask you something."
My heart stops. "Now? You're proposing now?"
"Would that be okay?"
"I'm wearing sweatpants and a milk-stained shirt. I haven't showered today. My hair is a disaster. This is possibly the least romantic moment ever."
"This is perfect." He takes my hand. "Because this is us. Exhausted, messy, real. No performance, no pretense. Just us inour living room figuring out how to be humans and parents and partners all at once."
"Zane—"
"Let me do this right. Please."
He drops to one knee right there in our living room. No fancy setup, no elaborate production. Just him and me and the life we've built together.
"Lena Cruz. Six months ago, you gave me a son I didn't know I needed. A year ago, you texted my number by accident and changed everything. You built a clinic when everyone said it was impossible. You made peace between enemy clubs. You save lives—even those who tried to destroy ours. You're strong and stubborn and absolutely magnificent."
I'm crying before he even gets to the question.
"I want forever with you. I want to build this life—chaotic and exhausting and perfect—as your husband. I want Santiago to grow up seeing what commitment looks like. I want to be the man who gets to stand beside you while you save the world one patient at a time."
He pulls out a ring—simple, beautiful, garnet stone that catches the light.
"Will you marry me? For real, officially, forever?"
"Yes." The word comes out choked with emotion. "Yes, you impossible man. Yes, I'll marry you."
He slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly—like he measured, like he planned, like this moment was always meant to happen.
Then he's kissing me, and I'm crying and laughing simultaneously, and everything feels right.
"When did you get the ring?" I ask when we finally break apart.
"Two weeks ago. Right after I gave you the midnight warning. Wanted to be ready whenever the moment felt right."
"And tonight felt right?"
"Tonight felt perfect. Just us, no performance, no audience. Just the truth of who we are."
I look at the ring on my finger. "Garnet. For January. For Santiago."
"For our beginning. For the moment everything changed."
"That's actually really romantic."
"I have my moments."
