Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Proposal
Writer's POV - Age 26
It was raining when Evan proposed.
Not a gentle spring shower a downpour. The kind that soaked through clothes in seconds and sent everyone running for cover.
They'd been walking through the park after dinner, talking about nothing important, when the sky opened up.
"Come on!" Fabiola laughed, grabbing Evan's hand. "Let's find shelter.."
But Evan stopped.
Just stopped in the middle of the path, rain streaming down his face, and pulled her back to him.
"Evan, we're getting soaked.."
"Marry me."
Fabiola's breath caught. "What?"
He dropped to one knee right there, in the mud and rain, water plastering his dark hair to his forehead. No umbrella. No prepared speech. No ring.
Just Evan, looking up at her with those storm-gray eyes that had captivated her since she was nine years old.
"Marry me," he said again. "Please."
"Evan..."
"I know I don't have a ring. I know this isn't romantic or planned or anything you deserve. But I can't wait another second without asking." His voice was rough with emotion. "I love you, Fabiola. I've loved you since we were kids. You've saved me in every way a person can be saved. You saw me at my worst and didn't run. You loved me when I was broken and didn't try to fix me—you just held me together until I could fix myself."
Tears mixed with rain on Fabiola's face.
"You're my light," Evan continued. "My warmth. My reason for everything. And I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me. So please—" His voice cracked. "Please marry me."
Fabiola couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.
This was Evan—her Evan—kneeling in the rain, asking her to be his forever.
"Yes," she whispered.
"What?"
"Yes!" She laughed through her tears. "Yes, I'll marry you!"
Evan stood, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her like the world was ending and beginning all at once.
His lips were cold from the rain but moved with desperate warmth. His hands cradled her face, thumbs wiping away tears that the rain had already washed clean.
When he finally pulled back, he buried his face in her soaked hair and breathed deep.
"You smell like rain and happiness," he murmured against her hair. "Like everything good in this world."
Fabiola laughed, holding him tight. "We're completely drenched."
"I don't care." He pulled back to look at her, and his smile was radiant—pure joy she'd never seen before on his face. "You said yes. Nothing else matters."
"Of course I said yes, you beautiful idiot." She cupped his face. "I've been yours since I was twelve years old."
"And I've been yours since you brought me a dandelion and I crushed it like an asshole."
They both laughed, remembering that day so many years ago.
"Come on," Fabiola said, tugging his hand. "Let's get out of this rain before we catch pneumonia."
"One more minute." Evan pulled her close again, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I just want to stand here with my fiancée and feel this moment."
"Your fiancée," Fabiola repeated, testing the word. It felt right. Perfect.
"My fiancée," Evan confirmed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Soon to be my wife."
"Soon to be your wife," she agreed.
They stood there in the pouring rain, holding each other, both of them soaked and shivering and happier than they'd ever been.
Six Months Later
Planning the wedding transformed Fabiola.
She threw herself into it with an enthusiasm that surprised even her. Dress shopping with her mother and Sofia. Choosing flowers. Tasting cakes. Creating Pinterest boards of decorations and themes.
For the first time in years, she felt alive.
Not just existing. Not just getting by. But genuinely, fully alive.
Evan's healing had changed him, yes—made him lighter, happier, more present. But it had also freed her. She no longer had to carry his darkness. No longer had to be his anchor against the storm.
She could just be... herself.
The girl who loved to dance. Who laughed easily. Who saw beauty in everything.
The girl she'd been before grief and obsession had dimmed her light.
"You're glowing," Amy said one afternoon while they addressed wedding invitations. "Seriously, Fab. You look happier than I've seen you in years."
"I am happy," Fabiola realized. And she meant it.
Evan was romantic now in ways he'd never been before. He brought her flowers for no reason. Left her sweet notes. Planned surprise dates. Told her he loved her a dozen times a day.
It was different from the desperate, consuming need of before. But it was good. Healthy. Real.
"You know," Fabiola said to Evan one night as they lay in bed, "I think we're going to be okay."
"Yeah?" He pulled her closer, his arms warm around her.
"Yeah. We've been through so much—the distance, the pain, all of it. But we made it. And now..." She turned to face him. "Now we get our happy ending."
Evan's eyes were soft as he looked at her. "You're my happy ending, Fabiola Morales. You always have been."
He kissed her gently, then buried his face in her neck and breathed deep—a habit he'd never quite lost, though it was softer now, less desperate.
"I love you," he whispered against her skin.
"I love you too."
And as Fabiola drifted off to sleep in Evan's arms, she felt peace.
True, deep peace.
They'd survived the darkness. Survived the separation. Survived everything that tried to tear them apart.
And now they were building something beautiful together.
A life. A future. A love that had been tested by fire and come out stronger.
She was going to marry Evan Harlow.
The boy who'd been strange and distant and broken.
Who'd become a man who was whole and happy and hers.
And she couldn't wait.
Couldn't wait to walk down the aisle toward him.
Couldn't wait to say "I do."
Couldn't wait to spend the rest of her life with the person who'd been hers since they were children.
Her best friend.
Her love.
Her everything.
For the first time in years, Fabiola went to sleep smiling.
Dreaming of white dresses and flower arrangements and the rest of their lives.
Unaware that in the shadows of the Harlow estate, something cold stirred.
Something that had been quiet but never gone.
Something that watched.
And waited.
And planned.
But that was a problem for another day.
Tonight, Fabiola was happy.
And that was enough.