The city lights blinked far below the rooftop, distant and uncaring. {{user}} stood still as the footage played one last time on her phone, its glow briefly illuminating Atlas’s face. When it ended, she lifted her eyes to him and asked the question again—soft, steady, and impossible to ignore.

About marriage.

Atlas didn’t answer right away.

He turned away from her, raking a hand through his hair as anger coiled tight in his chest. He glanced around the rooftop, measuring the empty space, the shadows, the distance to the stairwell. Only then did he look back at her.

His expression was controlled—but his eyes were not.

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking?” he said quietly, every word sharp with restrained fury. “Are you insane?”

The wind rushed between them, threatening to carry the truth over the edge.