Spring came slowly to London that year — a hesitant warmth that took its time. The kind that made you notice the details: the way the sun stretched longer each evening, the way strangers started to smile again, the way the sky looked less grey and more alive.
Ava stood on the rooftop where it all began. The same dress clung to her, though now paired with a wool coat and sensible heels. Hair curled by the breeze. A glass of champagne in hand. This time, the skyline looked different — not because the city had changed, but because she had.
Madison Bloom's campaign had launched to international acclaim, and Ava had accepted the role in New York — with a caveat. She would lead remotely for now, flying in and out as needed. She chose to make space. For herself. For him.
Because when it mattered most, Ava had realized something vital:
Love doesn't ask you to choose between your dreams and your heart.
It asks you to build something where both can breathe.
The rooftop door creaked open behind her, and she turned.
Ethan stood there, bouquet in hand — wildflowers, not roses. He knew better. A wide smile crept across his face as he walked toward her.
"You wore the dress," he said.
"You noticed."
"I notice everything about you."
They kissed — soft, easy, familiar now. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just right.
"Do you ever think about that night?" she asked quietly. "When we didn't know what this was?"
"I think about it all the time," Ethan said. "Because that night, you were a stranger I couldn't stop watching. And now…"
He paused, reaching into his pocket.
Ava blinked as he pulled out a small velvet box.
"Now, you're the only thing I see clearly."
Her heart stopped. Literally stopped.
"I'm not asking you to marry me tonight," he said, opening the box to reveal a simple gold band. "I'm asking you to keep choosing me. Day by day. Year by year. One night at a time."
Tears welled in her eyes. "Ethan…"
"Say yes to forever," he whispered. "Just tonight."
Ava took the ring, slipped it onto her finger herself.
"Just tonight," she whispered back. "And every night after."
They danced that night — no music, just the rhythm of the city and their feet. They toasted to love, to madness, to building something that didn't have a blueprint.
And as the stars unfolded above them, Ava knew:
This wasn't the end of her story.
It was the beginning of everything she never thought she could have.
THE END