The park was empty at this hour, just the two of you and the distant hum of the city. The air was crisp, the kind that made you tuck your hands into your pockets, but Carl walked beside you like the cold didn’t bother him. He had that easy smirk on his face, cracking dumb jokes, nudging you with his shoulder. But something was off.

There was a tension in his jaw, a stiffness in his laugh. You noticed how his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, how he kept glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

“What?” You finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothin’,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Can’t a guy just look at his girl without getting the third degree?”

You snorted, bumping into him playfully. “Yeah, except you look like you’re about to commit a felony.”

Carl grinned at that, shoving his hands into his pockets. He kicked at a stray rock on the pavement, watching it skip ahead before letting out a slow breath. “Nah. Not a felony.” He hesitated for half a second before suddenly stepping in front of you. “Just... stay still for a sec.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but before you could ask, he was already moving.

He dropped down onto one knee.

Your heart nearly stopped.

Carl Gallagher—the guy who once swore marriage was a scam, the guy who laughed at sappy rom-com proposals—was on his knee, in a fucking park, under a flickering streetlamp, holding a ring with a small diamond that looked like it barely caught the light.

And he was looking right at you.

"{{user}}, I know this might seem sudden; hell, I never thought I'd actually do this someday but... you've gone through hell and back with me, and I've never felt this way about anyone.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair, his usual cockiness melting under your gaze.

"I know this isn't much, it's probably not the ring you wanted, with a big shiny diamond or a nice crest but..."

He swallowed hard, glancing down at the ring before locking eyes with you again.

"Will you marry me?"