HE ALWAYS SAID YOU WERE THE QUIET IN HIS CHAOS — THE ONE PLACE IN THE WORLD WHERE NOTHING EVER FELT TOO LOUD. And you believed him, even on days like this, when he was the one making your heartbeat anything but calm.

It was a random Monday, the kind that usually blurred into the next. His day off. The first morning he’d had to rest after last night’s match. You’d expected him to sleep in, to wrap himself around you like he always did and refuse to move.

Instead, he kissed your forehead, smiled against your skin, and murmured, “Dress nice for me tonight, yeah? I’m taking you out.”

You laughed, half-asleep, nudging him. “Since when do you plan things?”

He only grinned — that shy, boyish smile that still made your chest warm even after four years. “Since now.”

Hours later, you found yourself in a black car, his fingers laced through yours, soft music drifting around you. He didn’t say where you were going. He just kept glancing at you like he couldn’t help it, like seeing you put together so beautifully had him a little undone.

When the car stopped, you realized the entire restaurant was empty — quiet, intimate, candlelit. Private, but not secret. Just like the two of you.

Dinner passed in soft laughter and slow conversation, his hand brushing yours across the table every few minutes — small touches, delicate, like he couldn’t resist reminding himself you were real.

But there was something in his eyes all night. A held breath. A secret waiting for its moment.

When he finally stood, he didn’t offer a reason. Just took your hand and guided you to the balcony — the one they’d kept closed off with heavy curtains the whole dinner.

He pulled them aside. Your breath caught.

Roses — everywhere. Petals scattered across the floor, bouquets lining the railings. Yellow, warm, dim lights glowing like they were breathing with the night. The city far below you, blurred and soft.

You turned to him, already feeling your chest tighten, your heart stutter.

“Bukayo…”

He didn’t speak. Just looked at you — really looked — like you were the single choice he’d ever been sure about.

And then his hand slipped into his jacket pocket.

A small box.

He exhaled once, a quiet, trembling laugh, and then he kneeled — slow, steady, eyes never leaving yours.

The world stilled.

It was just him. Just you. And the moment you’d never forget for the rest of your life.

”Four years, let me make it forever,” he whispered, voice thick. opening the box . ”Will you marry me?”