@URFinestTeaNot engagedyet, but we’ll bet the group chats are 3 Pinterest boards deep.
@TheURStandardHe got the title. She got the timeline. It’s giving Q4 proposal, Q3 wedding.
@GoldForkFilesHer silence is either grace…or a six-figure exclusivity deal withLegacy Brides.
@MonarchWatch_URI’m not saying there’s a ring. I’m just saying her manicure suddenly got serious.
He locked the screen.
She wasn’t a headline to him. Not a piece in the game they thought they were watching.
And yet…every single post felt like it was drawing a circle around what he hadn’t done or said yet. What he was losing by the hour.
He didn’t sit at his desk. Couldn’t. The office was still halfway gutted from the remodel, bare walls and uncovered wires, but the punching bag was hung.
He threw another combination. Hard. Left hook, body shot, step back. Breath burning in his chest. Wrapping tape still tight on his knuckles.
He didn’t hear the office door open—just felt the shift of air.
Laurent, of course. The man never knocked. “Rough day?”
Rafael didn’t look over. He drove another punch into the bag. Then another. The sound echoed off concrete and half-painted drywall.
Laurent walked in and sat like he had all the time in the world.
Then, without cruelty, without anything but fact: “She loves him, Rafael. She’ll probably say yes.”
Rafael’s fists slowed. He’d been telling himself that. All day.
Laurent’s voice came again, flat with certainty. “And if he proposes, if she goes to London—” A pause. “C’est fini.”
Rafael stopped moving. One hand on the bag, holding it steady. Jaw tight.
He knew that. When men and women of the UR made promises, they kept them. In their world, marriage wasn’t a fifty-fifty gamble. It was’til death do us part.
“She’s not done here,” Rafael said.
Laurent raised a brow.
“She’s building something of her own. And she’s not finished yet.” He picked up a water bottle, took a long drink. “But you’re right. She loves him. And she’ll carry his future if no one stops her.”
Because that’s what love was to her. Because she was loyal. And brave.
Laurent studied him. Then gave a short laugh. “You really do see her.”
He didn’t reply.
“Do you know how she looked when I told her you’ve never looked at a woman the way you look at her?” Laurent said, gaze angled toward the glass.
Rafael’s head turned sharply. The look he gave was lethal in its blandness. And not surprised.
“Like it landed somewhere deep,” Laurent said. “And she didn’t want it to.” He didn’t rush through the silence. “What’s stopping you from telling her how you feel? You already told everyone at the Harvest Summit.”
Rafael’s knuckles pressed into the side of the bag. Hard.
He wasn’t afraid of fighting for her. He’d burn the ground between them if it meant she’d be free.
“The last time I got close, she moved in with him.” His voice roughened. “The closer I get, the more he tightens the net. Her choices become reactions.”
