CHAPTER 19
MAYA
The text arrives while I'm hunched over my laptop, trying to make sense of a particularly stubborn article about urban gardening trends. My phone moves against the wooden desk, and Ursak's name lights up the screen.
Meet me at Meridian Park. We need to talk.
My stomach drops. Those four words—we need to talk—have haunted relationships since the dawn of text messaging. I gaze at the phone until it goes dark, then immediately lights up again as I touch it.
No follow-up. No emoji. No explanation.
Justwe need to talk.
I've been dreading this moment for weeks. Ever since Ursak started acting... different. Some things changed this past week. He's distant. Secretive phone calls that end abruptly when I enter the room. Late nights at the university that stretch longer than any linguistics conference could possibly justify. And yesterday, I caught him quickly closing his laptop when I brought him coffee, like he was hiding something.
The signs are all there. A year of blissful domesticity, and now this. Maybe the novelty has worn off. Maybe he's realized that sharing space with a perpetually deadline-stressedfreelancer isn't the romantic adventure he thought it would be. Maybe those immigration papers feel more like a trap than a victory now.
I save my work and grab my jacket. Outside, October air bites at my cheeks, and I pull my scarf tighter as I walk the six blocks to Meridian Park. Each step feels heavier than the last, dread settles in me like a stone.
This is it, I think.He's going to end things properly, face to face, because that's the kind of decent person he is.
I've been preparing for this conversation in my head for days, practicing responses that don't sound desperate or clingy.I understand, I'll say.Thank you for being honest. Like I'm some mature adult who can handle heartbreak with grace instead of the woman who cried for twenty minutes last week when I thought he was pulling away during a hug.
The park entrance comes into view, and I stop dead.
Paper lanterns hang from every tree branch, glowing warm and golden in the gathering dusk. Strings of fairy lights weave between them, creating a canopy of soft light that transforms the familiar walking path into something magical. The effect is breathtaking, like someone has bottled starlight and scattered it through the autumn leaves.
What the hell?
I follow the illuminated path deeper into the park, my confusion growing with each step. This isn't the setup for a breakup conversation. This is... something else entirely. My heart hammers against my body as I round the bend toward the park's center.
That's when I see them.
Our neighbors cluster around the edges of the small clearing, phones raised and faces bright with anticipation. Ms. Cavanaugh stands next to Jorge from 2A, both of them grinning like they'rein on some enormous secret. Dex waves at me from behind a tree, barely containing his excitement.
And in the center of it all, Ursak waits.
He's wearing his good shirt, the deep green one that makes his eyes look like forest moss, and his hair is actually combed for once instead of falling in his usual scholarly disarray. At his feet sits a small velvet pillow, burgundy against the grass.
Oh.
Oh my god.
My legs nearly give out as understanding crashes over me. This isn't a breakup. This is the opposite of a breakup. This is why he's been secretive, why he's been taking mysterious phone calls, why he closed his laptop so quickly yesterday.
He's been planning this.
"Maya." His voice carries across the clearing, warm and steady despite what must be enormous nerves. "Come here."
I can't move. I can't breathe. This can't be happening. People like me don't get fairy tale proposals in parks lit up like something out of a dream. I'm the girl who files complaints and stress-eats cold pizza for breakfast. I'm not the heroine of this story.
But Ursak's eyes find mine across the space between us, and the love there is unmistakable. He looks nervous, more nervous than I've ever seen him, even during his visa hearing, but certain. Like he's never been more sure of anything in his life.
"Maya," he calls again, gentler this time. "Please."
My feet move without conscious direction, carrying me across the grass toward him. The fairy lights blur through sudden tears, and I have to blink hard to keep from sobbing right here in front of everyone.
When I'm close enough to touch him, Ursak reaches for my hands. His are trembling slightly, and the sight of it, thisstrong, controlled man shaking with emotion, nearly undoes me completely.
