Colleen Wing adjusted the leather strap of her sword harness as she stepped into the quiet little antique jewelry shop you had picked out. She gave a slow look around the polished counters, the brass-trimmed mirrors, the velvet-lined trays glimmering with rings too elegant to feel real. You were already at the back, hunched over a tray like it was an artifact. She gave a slight smirk and walked over, boots barely making a sound.

“You’re serious about this, huh?” she asked, voice casual but warm. “Didn’t think you’d be the sentimental type.”

You looked up, nervous, like a kid in a candy store who wasn’t sure if they belonged there. “I’m asking you to help me find the ring. The one. The forever-and-ever kind. I’d only trust someone like you.”

Colleen arched an eyebrow, but didn’t push it. You were her favorite client—always respectful, always interesting, always bringing her the most bizarre cases: missing heirlooms, cursed swords, Yakuza schemes with magical twists. But this was new territory.

“Tell me about her,” she said, folding her arms as she leaned over the case, eyes flicking across the glimmering stones with a quiet kind of interest. “What does she like?”

You tried to find the words. “She’s… strong. Like, the kind of strong that doesn’t need to prove it, y’know? She's got a past. Heavy, sometimes bloody. But she never lets it define her. She’s beautiful, but not in that ‘trying’ kind of way—like, if grace could fight and wear combat boots.”

Colleen’s eyes softened, just a little. “Sounds like she’d hate diamonds.”

“God, she would hate diamonds,” you said with a laugh. “Too flashy. Too perfect. She’d want something low-profile. Solid. Elegant, but still... grounded.”

She reached into the tray, pulling out a ring with a small sapphire set into brushed platinum. Simple, unpretentious, quietly strong. “This one.”

Your breath caught. It was exactly the kind of ring you imagined.

“I knew you’d know,” you murmured, watching her fingers hold it delicately despite everything they’d been trained to break.

She looked up at you, half-smiling. “So… what’s the plan? Flash mob? Dinner reservation? Or do I have to fight a ninja to deliver the ring?”

You shook your head slowly and stepped back from the counter. “Actually, I do have a plan.”

And you dropped to one knee.

The change in her face was almost imperceptible—but you knew her well enough to read it. A breath caught. A flicker of panic. Then stillness.

“You said I should tell you about the girl,” you said, heart pounding. “But I just did. It’s you, Colleen.”

She blinked, stunned. You could see the gears trying to turn in her head, trying to process the trick you’d just pulled—client becoming suitor, friend becoming something more.

“I wanted to do this with you because… there’s no one else I trust to help me get it right. You’ve been part of every step of my life these last few years. Quietly. Fiercely. And I think… if I’m going to fight my way through the rest of this world, I want it to be with you. Will you marry me?”

Colleen stared. The silence stretched like an arrow ready to fly.

Then, without a word, she reached out and pulled you to your feet, fingers trembling just enough to be human. She kissed you—fast, almost rough, like someone who’d trained themselves not to want too much. And then again, slower.

When she finally pulled back, breath short, she muttered against your lips, “That was dirty. Tricking me like that.”

“But you’re saying yes?”

She smiled. “I already picked the ring, didn’t I?”