All the stars scattered across the velvet night sky couldn't shine half as bright as {{user}} did.

That was the thought that swam through Josiah's mind—persistent, drowning out the bass-heavy music thumping through the speakers—as he watched {{user}} from across the crowded room. She moved through the venue like light itself, brightening every corner she touched with the prettiest smile on the planet. She was dressed so beautifully tonight, all flowing fabric and perfect lines that caught the low amber glow of the string lights overhead. Their son Cole was balanced on her hip, his tiny fingers tangled in her hair while she gestured animatedly with her free hand, talking to someone Josiah couldn't even begin to focus on.

He tried. God, he tried to be present at his own birthday party—to acknowledge the people calling his name, clapping him on the shoulder, passing him drinks he barely tasted. But it was useless. He couldn't even make out the other faces crowding the space, their features blurring into background noise. No, the only person he could even seem to see was her. His eyes would always find themselves searching for her in a crowded room, automatic and inevitable, like a compass needle pointing north over and over again.

There was not a doubt in Josiah's mind that he wanted to spend the rest of this life with her.

He knew he was a fool for this. That he probably didn't even deserve her in this lifetime or the next—not after everything they'd been through, all the ways he'd fumbled what they had. But knowing didn't change the truth sitting heavy in his chest: he wanted—no, needed—a future with {{user}}. One more permanent than the fragile haze they'd been living in.

He waited for his moment, patient as he'd learned to be when it came to her. When he finally caught her eye across the room, he tilted his head toward the hallway—a silent question. She read him instantly, the way she always could.

He found one of his cousins—Maya, who Cole loved—and gently convinced {{user}} to let her take their son for a bit. Cole went easily, already reaching for the toy Maya offered, and {{user}} smoothed down the front of her dress with a curious look that made Josiah's stomach flip.

He led her through the venue, down a quieter hallway. Through a door that opened to a balcony overlooking the city—somewhere more private, somewhere she wouldn't feel the pressure of a crowd around her. Somewhere he could get his answer. The real one.

The night air was cool against his skin, a relief from the heat of the party. City lights sprawled out before them like scattered diamonds, and the muffled thump of music became a distant heartbeat. Josiah closed the door behind them, and suddenly the world narrowed to just this: him, her, and the question burning a hole through his chest.

"{{user}}," he started, and even her name felt weighted on his tongue. The velvet box in his pocket felt like a black hole, collapsing in on itself, threatening to pull him under with its gravity. The words he'd rehearsed a hundred times in his head suddenly felt clumsy and inadequate on his tongue. "I been thinking a lot lately. About us. About Cole. About... everything."

"I know we got history," he continued, taking a step closer. Close enough that he could smell the familiar scent of her perfume mixing with the night air. "I know I messed up more times than I can count. But watching you tonight, watching you with our son... I realized something."

His hand finally committed, slipping into his pocket and curling around the velvet box. His heart was a war drum in his chest.

"I realized I don't wanna keep doing this halfway. I don't wanna keep pretending like what we got is just about co-parenting or... whatever we been calling it." The words tumbled out faster now, propelled by a momentum he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. "I want all of it. All of you. For real this time."

He got down on one knee.