“That’s fair.”
“I kept replaying what this actually means,” she continues. “Not the optics. Not the filing. The day after. And the day after that.”
I let her talk.
“So let’s review what we already said,” she says calmly. “Maddie comes first.”
“Always,” I confirm.
“We tell Mason together.”
“Together.”
“I keep my apartment. I keep my career. We hire help properly. I’m not stepping into a childcare gap.”
“You’re not,” I say. “You’d be my wife. We build the rest on purpose.”
She searches my face, making sure there’s no desperation hiding in the corners.
“There’s no undo button,” she adds quietly.
“I don’t want one,” I answer.
She studies me for any flicker of performance.
I give her none.
“I don’t want temporary,” I add. “If I say vows, I mean them.”
Her throat moves when she swallows.
“If I do this,” she says slowly, “it’s real.”
“I don’t know how to do it halfway.”
That’s the truth. I’ve never been good at casual. I’ve never been good at pretending.
Silence stretches.
Daisy sighs like she’s bored with the pace of human decision-making.
“You understand what that means?” Natalie asks.
“Yes.”
“It means I’m not your emergency solution. I’m your wife.”
The word lands differently this time.
Not strategy.
Weight.
“Yes,” I say again.
She watches me like she’s waiting for the flinch.
I don’t give her one.
