“I have something for you,” Zayn says after we finish eating. He takes out a small box from his jacket pocket. It’s too large for a ring, which floods me with both relief and the tiniest bit of disappointment. My heart accelerates as he places it in my palm.
Inside, nestled on black velvet, is a pretty necklace with a small pressed violet flower pendant. The flower is preserved in clear resin, perfectly suspended in time.
“Zayn,” I whisper, touching the pendant. “It’s beautiful.”
“Like you,” he says with such sincerity that I can’t even mock how cliché that sounds. He takes the necklace and fastens it around my neck with steady hands that don’t tremble like mine always do.
As I admire the necklace, my fingers brush something else—a smaller velvet box hidden beneath the tissue paper. My heart stops completely, then launches into overdrive. I lift it slowly, barely breathing.
Zayn takes it from my shaking hands but doesn’t open it immediately. He doesn’t drop to one knee dramatically—just shifts on the bench to face me fully, our knees touching.
“Sophie.” His voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat. “I’m not proposing with grand promises or fancy speeches. We both know those are just words, and words come easily.” Heholds my hand, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. “I’m asking because I want to choose you, choose us, every single day for the rest of my life. When things are easy and when they’re impossibly hard. When I’m frustrated and when you’re scared. Every single day, I want to wake up and choose you again.”
He opens the box to reveal a ring—elegantly simple, with a single diamond set in a delicate gold band. It’s not big or flashy—it’s exactly what I would have selected myself.
“Will you marry me?” he asks quietly.
My eyes flood with tears, but these aren’t the heartbroken tears we’ve shed here before. These are pure joy. “Yes,” I say, laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes, absolutely yes.”
His face breaks into that rare, enormous smile—the one that transforms him from serious attorney to the boy I fell in love with at eighteen. His hands shake slightly as he slides the ring onto my finger.
The sun crests fully over Bellrose while we kiss, warming our skin and illuminating the wild roses surrounding us in golden light. Mia runs in circles at our feet, feeling how happy we are.
Against my lips, Zayn whispers, “Always,” and for the first time in my entire life, that word doesn’t scare me—it simply feels like a promise.
The little bell chimes as Zayn opens the door to The Daily Grind, his hand holding mine tightly. I keep fidgeting with my ring, spinning it around my finger, still not quite used to its weight. My engagement ring. Those words feel surreal but wonderful rolling through my mind. The coffee shop buzzes withthe morning rush—customers typing on laptops, the espresso machine hissing and grinding, all the familiar sounds that have accompanied so many important moments between us. In our usual corner sit the people who matter most. Harper, Sara, Reed, and Dr. Martinez, all acting like they just happened to show up at the same time.
“They know,” I whisper to Zayn, elbowing him gently. “You told them we’re engaged.”
He grins, looking slightly guilty but mostly proud. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and warm cinnamon rolls envelops us as we navigate through the crowded shop. My palms feel clammy and my heart hammers. It’s ridiculous to be nervous—these are our closest friends, practically family—but something about announcing our engagement aloud makes my throat feels dry.
Harper spots us first. Her red hair is piled in a chaotic bun, and she’s practically vibrating in her seat. She elbows Sara, who glances up from her phone and immediately gets a hopeful look on her face. Reed is nursing what must be at least his third coffee, and Dr. Martinez sits beside him with what are clearly champagne flutes on the table.
They’re all staring at my left hand, which I’ve hidden against my side without thinking about it.
“Well?” Harper demands loudly enough that nearby customers turn to look. “Did you ask her? Did she say yes? Sophie, I swear if you’re hiding your hand on purpose?—”
I laugh, feeling tension dissolve as I extend my left hand. The diamond catches morning sunlight, scattering tiny rainbows across the table.
Everyone reacts at once. Harper shrieks loud enough to definitely violate coffee shop etiquette. Sara covers her mouth with both hands, tears already streaming. Reed springs up sofast he nearly topples his chair. And Dr. Martinez actually claps her hands together like a delighted child.
Harper reaches me first, crushing me in a hug that threatens my ribcage. “I knew it,” she whispers fiercely in my ear. “I knew he was plotting something when he asked me your ring size.” She pulls back to meet my eyes, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “If you need an escape plan, just say the word. I’ve got a getaway car and fake passports.”
We dissolve into laughter so intense that tears stream down both our faces and my stomach aches. That’s just like Harper—fiercely protective, always ready to defend me, but genuinely thrilled for my happiness too.
Sara embraces me next, more gently but equally emotional. “I’m so happy for you,” she manages through tears. “You deserve this. Both of you deserve this.” She attempts to wipe her eyes and laughs at herself. “I promised I wouldn’t cry.”
“You cry during commercials,” I remind her, my own throat tightening.
Across the table, Reed engulfs Zayn in one of those masculine hugs involving back-slapping. “Finally made it official, huh?” he says, grinning despite his teasing tone. “Took you long enough.”
“Had to ensure everything was perfect,” Zayn responds, his gaze finding mine. When our eyes connect, heat floods my face.
Dr. Martinez appears with coffee drinks topped with whipped cream and shimmering gold sprinkles. “We need something special today,” she says, beaming. “Tara helped me prepare them.”
Tara waves enthusiastically from behind the counter, her vibrant purple hair bouncing as she nods. Everyone in the coffee shop seems attuned to our joy—customers smile knowingly at us, some even raise their cups like a toast.
