The city was silent again – another game survived, another night spent pretending not to care. Niragi sat beside you on the roof, gun across his knees. The sunrise painted the sky in bruises and gold.

“Everyone here disgusts me,” he muttered. “Always has.”

You didn’t answer; you’d heard it before. But then he added, quieter:

“Except you.”

When you turned, he was already looking, eyes raw instead of sharp.

“Don’t laugh, all right? I don’t… I don’t do this.” He pulled a small, bent ring from his pocket – scrap metal hammered into shape. “Made it from a bullet casing. Figured if I ever got out, I’d give it to you.”

“So?” you asked, half-smiling.

He swallowed hard. “Marry me. Or whatever counts as that here. Just… stay.”

For once, the infamous Niragi didn’t smirk. He just waited – open, unarmored, real.