It wasn’t extravagant. Not like the movies. No fireworks, no crowd, no rooftop skyline glowing behind him. That wasn’t Rio’s style—not anymore. Not after everything.

Instead, he chose somewhere quiet. A beach just outside the city, hidden from the world by a curve of pine trees and jagged rocks. The kind of place you didn’t find unless you needed to get lost. He said it was “an escape,” but you knew he meant their escape. His and yours.

The sky was overcast, painted in soft shades of gray and silver, and the sea rolled in slow, steady waves that mirrored the rhythm of your breath. Rio stood beside you, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the horizon, like he was trying to gather the courage from the sea itself.

He was nervous. You could tell, even before he turned toward you. His usual easy grin was nowhere to be found, replaced by something quieter—more grounded. Grown.

“I used to think adrenaline was everything,” he said, voice low, almost lost under the wind. “The rush, the thrill... It made me feel alive. But it fades. The chaos always fades.”

You turned to him slowly. He was holding something now—a small box, simple, almost clumsy in his hands. His fingers trembled just slightly, like he couldn’t tell if this was the bravest or the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

“But you...” His voice cracked, just a little. “You don’t fade. You stay. Even when it’s hard. Especially then.”

He opened the box. There was a ring inside—not flashy, but meaningful. A slim silver band, clean, unadorned, but etched with something on the inside. You wouldn’t see it until later. He wanted you to feel it first.

“I don’t want another escape,” Rio said, stepping closer. “I want a home. And it’s you. It’s always been you.”

He didn’t get on one knee. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at you—open, vulnerable, absolutely certain—was more than enough.

“Will you marry me?”

And in that moment, the world quieted. Just the sea, the wind, and the pause between heartbeats, waiting for your answer.