The late-night breeze drifted through the open window of the bedroom, carrying the distant sounds of Detroit’s heartbeat. The city never truly slept, but inside the house, everything was still. The warm glow from the bedside lamp cast long, soft shadows across the walls, flickering slightly as it fought against the darkness.

Marshall sat at the edge of the bed, his back slightly hunched, elbows resting on his knees. He had been quiet tonight, more so than usual. The weight of something unsaid hung in the air, lingering between the two of you like an unspoken verse waiting to be written. His fingers toyed absentmindedly with a small object in his hand, something he had reached for a dozen times before pulling away, like he was still trying to find the right moment.

The room smelled like him—clean, warm, familiar. The kind of scent that wrapped around you like a second skin. Outside, the city lights stretched far beyond the window, but inside, it was just the two of you. Just him.

Then, without a word, he shifted. Turning slightly, his hand found yours, rough fingertips tracing along your knuckles, memorizing them like he hadn’t done it a thousand times before. And then, before you could question the look in his eyes, he let out a slow breath and opened his palm.

A small, simple ring sat in the center. No grand gestures, no rehearsed speech. Just him—raw, honest, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

“Marry me.”