Her hand’s in mine as we take the stairs up. She’s laughing about something—something we passed on the street maybe? I’m nodding, smiling, trying to stay present, but my brain is humming like a tuning fork.

Each step feels louder than it should. Like the whole building knows what’s about to happen.

She has no idea.

We hit the last landing. My key slips into the rooftop access door, and I pause for half a second, glancing at her. She’s curious now—tilting her head, the way she always does when she’s about to be surprised. God, I love that look.

This is the thing I’ve been working on,

I say. Like it’s casual. Like I haven’t poured every last inch of my heart into this space.

I push the door open.

The rooftop opens up in front of us—bathed in soft golden light. String lights wrapped along the edges, soft music playing low from hidden speakers. The olive tree in the center glows under its own little lanterns, its leaves shifting gently in the breeze. The bench curves around it like a secret waiting to be told.