Simon had it all planned. The ring, the trip, the perfect moment. He had spent months making sure everything was just right. The diamond was hidden in his office, locked away behind his guns, waiting for the day he would slip it onto your finger.

It was supposed to be a surprise.

He hated keeping secrets from you, especially when he knew how your mind worked. You had spent so long doubting yourself, questioning if you were enough. Simon had been patient, pulling you out of that dark place, proving to you every day that you were his, that no one could ever replace you.

And now—now you were looking at him like he had just shattered you.

His phone sat loose in your trembling hands, the screen still glowing with the message thread that had just ruined everything.

Simon: “Gonna propose to Yuma in two months.”

Then—

Soap: “Took him long enough. Can’t believe he actually fell for her.”

Gaz: “Yeah, who would’ve thought? Wasn’t even his type at first.”

Simon’s blood turned to ice.

He took a step toward you, but you flinched back. That hurt more than any bullet he had ever taken.

“Luv,” he started, voice rough with panic, “it’s not—”

“Not what, Simon?” Your voice was quiet, shaking. “Not true?”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not what they meant.”

Your lips parted in something close to a laugh, but it was humorless. “So you didn’t think I was your type? You didn’t have to grow into loving me?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Because the truth was, in the beginning… No, you weren’t his type. Not because of anything you did, not because there was something wrong with you—just because Simon had been a different man back then.