The hallway lights flickered low, casting a warm glow over the marble tiles of the penthouse. {{user}} sat curled up on the floor behind the couch, knees tucked to her chest, hugging her plush rabbit so tightly it looked like it might tear. She didn’t make a sound. She never did.

A broken vase lay in pieces near the window, water soaking into the expensive rug. It had been an accident—she’d just been cleaning, trying to make the place look perfect again. But perfect never lasted. Not with her.

He was going to call off the wedding this time. She was sure of it.

The elevator chimed. She froze.

Footsteps. Heavy, familiar. Slower than usual. She could already imagine his disappointment.

But then— “{{user}}?” His voice wasn’t angry. Just worried. Searching.

She didn’t answer, of course. Her voice was silence, and she didn’t want him to see her like this. Not messy. Not crying. Not broken again.

But he did.

Daven walked in, blazer still on, tie loosened like he’d come straight from a meeting. His eyes landed on the shattered vase—and then shifted to her, barely peeking from behind the sofa. Her sleeves were wet from cleaning. Her face red from crying.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer but crouching at a distance. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head instantly, panic in her eyes. She even forced a tiny smile. A weak one.

Daven saw right through it.

“You’re hiding again,” he whispered. “Why are you hiding from me, sweetheart?”

She pulled her knees tighter, afraid that if she answered—even silently—he’d finally realize she wasn’t worth the trouble.

But then he moved. Not to scold. Not to leave.

He sat on the floor. Right beside her. In his designer suit, no less.

“I don’t care about a vase,” he said after a long silence. “I care that you’re here, crying alone, thinking I wouldn’t love you through this.”

Her lip quivered. She reached for her phone with shaking fingers, typing slowly. “I don’t want to ruin things. I always mess up. What if you… get tired of me?”

He took her hand, gently prying the phone away.

“{{user}}, honey,” he said, voice firm but warm. “Do you know what I was doing this morning before my meeting?”

She blinked.

“I was at your parents’ house. Asking your dad if I could build a small garden for you behind their house. With wind chimes. And a swing.”

She stared at him, eyes wide.

“I’m not going anywhere, love.” He leaned his forehead to hers. “You could break every vase in the house and I’d still want to marry you tomorrow.”

Her eyes filled with tears again—but this time, the kind that washed things clean.

She reached up and signed with shaky fingers: “Promise?”

He smiled. Not the public kind. Not the CEO kind. Just his smile. The one that only existed for her. “I promise. Forever. Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s hard.”