You noticed something was off the second Conrad picked you up.

He wasn’t fidgety, exactly, but there was this underlying energy in him that didn’t quite settle. His hand on the steering wheel drummed a quiet rhythm against the leather, his eyes darted from the road to you and back again, a little more often than usual.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked, narrowing your eyes when you caught him sneaking another glance.

“I’m not smiling,” he said, though his lips betrayed him, tugging at the corners.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, letting your gaze linger on him. He’d texted you that morning with an unusual request—Dress nice. I’m taking you out. No explanation. No context. Just that. And Conrad Fisher wasn’t exactly a spontaneous, elaborate date kind of guy. His favorite nights with you usually consisted of sweatshirts, takeout, and the comfort of silence. Which was why your stomach hadn’t stopped twisting with curiosity since you zipped yourself into your nicest sundress.

The drive ended at a small stretch of beach, one you knew well, but it looked transformed. Lanterns lined the path down to the sand, glowing softly in the waning light of the evening. A blanket was spread across the sand, weighted down with a basket, two glasses, and the faint sparkle of fairy lights wound carefully around driftwood.

Your heart skipped. “Conrad…”

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Do you… like it?”

“Are you kidding? It’s beautiful.” You turned to him, warmth rising in your chest. “What’s the occasion?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked ahead, tugging you gently toward the blanket. The ocean was calm tonight, the horizon painted in watercolor pinks and oranges. You sank onto the blanket, smoothing the skirt of your dress, trying to ignore how your pulse raced under his steady gaze.

Conrad opened the basket and pulled out your favorite—the bottle of sparkling cider he always teased you about liking more than actual champagne, strawberries, chocolate. He poured you each a glass, his hand brushing yours when he passed it over.

The silence between you was different tonight. Heavy. Anticipating.

“Okay, you’ve been acting weird all day,” you said softly, breaking it. “What’s going on? Did you rob a bank or something?”

That earned you a laugh, the sound warm and rich in his chest. But then his eyes met yours, and all humor softened into something more serious. Something that made your breath catch.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to do this without… messing it up,” he admitted. His voice was low, careful, the way it always was when he was letting you in on the deepest parts of him. He reached into his pocket, and your heart stopped.

“Connie—”

“Just—just let me say this,” he interrupted, eyes searching yours. “You’re the one who makes everything feel less heavy. You’re the one I want to come home to, the one I want to argue with over dumb things and make up with five minutes later. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

Your throat tightened, tears prickling your eyes before you could stop them. He pulled his hand from his pocket and, sure enough, there it was—a small velvet box, trembling just slightly in his palm. He flipped it open, revealing the simple, elegant ring inside.

“Marry me?” His voice cracked at the edges, vulnerable in a way Conrad rarely allowed himself to be.