If it made me foolish, then so be it.
If it hurt me later… well, everything in my life had already hurt. At least this—this love—felt warm and right. He stayed on one knee, chest rising and falling unevenly, eyes locked on mine like he was praying.
I took a breath that stuttered painfully in my chest. Then another. Then?—
"Yes," I whispered.
His head jerked up.
"Yes?" he echoed, stunned.
"Y-yes," I laughed through tears. "Yes."
His face broke open, joy, disbelief, relief all crashing into each other, and then he surged to his feet, swept me into his arms, and crushed me against his chest with a sound that came from deep inside him, half-laugh, half-sob.
I wrapped my arms around his neck as he twirled me in a circle, lantern light and night sky spinning together. I squealed, and he laughed, and for the first time in years—maybe ever—I felt weightless. Like Berlin wasn't broken. Like I wasn't broken. Like love was something that could actually happen to people like me.
He kissed me again—joyful this time, smiling against my mouth—and I melted into it, let myself feel all of it: safety, desire, hope, home.
When he pulled back, breathless, he put the ring on my finger. It was just slightly too big, but the sight of it made my heart lurch.
"Oh—Gideon—" It caught the lantern light and scattered it like shattered starlight.
I stared. Speechless. "Oh no… this is… this is too much," I whispered. "I can't… this is… I've never?—"
I didn't know much about jewels, but I remembered my mother's ring, small, delicate, half the size of this stone. She'd been so proud of it. Women used to lean close when she cleaned their flats, whispering their envy, their admiration. Even the wealthy Hausfrauen she'd worked for hadn't owned anything like this.
"I…" my voice faltered, "I don't understand. This must be… glass? Or paste? I'll have to be careful with it; I don't want to scratch?—"
His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing a tear I hadn't realized was falling.
"It's real," he murmured. "Every bit of it. And you deserve more than this. A thousand times more."
I swallowed hard. The world tilted. The ring glittered like a dream I wasn't ready to wake from.
"Oh, Gideon… it's so beautiful. Thank you," I whispered.
He smiled—slow, bright, breathtakingly—and kissed my forehead.
"No," he said softly. "Thankyou. You're making me the happiest man alive."
He pressed another kiss to my cheek, then pulled back, eyes gleaming with mischief and excitement.
"Now," he said, rubbing his hands together, "let's go see the children?" He grinned. "I have gifts."
We walked hand in hand through the warm night, and my fingers laced with his like they belonged there. Everything inside me felt new, tender, and trembling, and too big to fit in my chest. I kept touching the ring, afraid it would vanish if I blinked too long.
Gideon talked softly as we walked, his voice deep andcalm and so reassuring. His thumb brushed the back of my hand like he was memorizing me.
"I spoke with my commanding officer," he said. "The paperwork has already been started. Two weeks, tops."
I nearly stumbled. "Two… weeks?"
"If everything goes smoothly," he continued, completely unfazed, "you and the kids will have a real roof over your heads. Heat. Windows. A proper bed for every one of you."
Heat.
Windows.
