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“We should figure out dates,” I say, grounding us again.
“Soon,” he replies.
“Soon how?”
“Before anyone can talk you out of it.”
I laugh.
“That’s not how this works.”
“Then how does it work?”
“We plan it. We tell our parents. We buy a ring.”
He looks at my hand like he can already see it there.
Simple.
Clean.
Intentional.
“I’ll handle the ring,” he says.
“I assumed you would.”
He steps closer.
Not touching.
Close enough to feel it.
“You’re sure?” he asks one last time.
“Yes.”
The word feels different now.
Stronger.
He nods.
“Okay,” he says.
Outside the window, the world looks exactly the same.
Traffic.
Sunlight.
Normal.
Inside, everything has shifted.
Not because of custody.
Not because of fear.
