We never crossed any lines, but there was something… comfortable.
Like we understood each other without saying too much.
The only thing he avoided?
His past.
Every time I asked, he shut down. Changed the subject. Looked away.
I let it go.
Until the night everything changed.
I came home from work, tired, expecting nothing unusual.
But the moment I opened the door… something felt off.
There were rose petals on the floor.
At first I thought I was in the wrong house.
Then I followed them into the living room.
And I froze.
The entire room was filled with flowers.
Candles. Soft light. A heart made of petals on the floor.
And in the middle of it…
Stan.
But not the Stan I knew.
He was wearing a perfectly fitted black suit. Clean. Sharp. Confident.
In his hand — a small velvet box.
