Margot
MARGOT
P aris is beautiful this time of year. The kind of breathtaking that never gets old, no matter how many times I stand on this balcony, watching the city unfold beneath me like a dream. The Eiffel Tower glows in the distance, its golden lights shimmering in the dark, casting flickers of warmth across the cool midnight-blue sky. Below, the Seine glistens like liquid glass, catching every reflection and turning it into poetry. The breeze lifts the sheer curtains behind me, soft as a whisper, carrying with it the scent of fresh roses, warm bread, and something sweeter, something that feels like home.
I take a long, slow breath, letting the night settle into my bones. Everything feels softer now. Quieter. Like the world finally stopped spinning just long enough for me to catch my breath. For the first time in what feels like forever, there are no battles to fight. No boardroom betrayals. No deadlines or power plays. Just the hum of the city and the steady rhythm of a heart that isn’t mine, but beats for me anyway.
Grayson leans against the balcony railing beside me, his sleeves rolled up, the buttons of his shirt undone just enough to make my thoughts scatter. The moonlight glints off his watch, but it's his expression that holds me still, calm, content, the kind of peace that’s earned, not given. He looks at me with something more than affection, something that feels like forever.
“You’re staring,” he says, his voice low and amused, a smile tugging at his mouth.
I tilt my head, caught. “I was thinking.”
“Dangerous,” he teases, but his eyes are soft as he reaches for me. His fingers skim along my arm, a featherlight touch that sends goosebumps down my skin. Then they trail lower, wrapping gently around my wrist, his thumb brushing over my pulse.
“About what?” he murmurs.
I lean into him, letting my shoulder brush his chest, the familiar comfort of him settling around me like a favorite song. “Everything. How far we’ve come.”
He hums, a quiet sound of agreement, but there’s something in his eyes now, something more serious, more certain. “Regrets?” he asks.
I turn toward him fully, the Paris skyline fading behind him, replaced by the only view that matters. My heart swells at the look on his face, like I’m the answer to every question he never thought he’d ask. I shake my head, the words easy, true. “Not a single one.”
For a moment, he just looks at me. And then, without a word, he slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Time seems to still.
My breath catches as he opens it, revealing a ring. Not the one from before, the one tied to duty and a carefully negotiated partnership. This one is different. Elegant. Quiet. Honest. A promise, not a transaction. A symbol ofus.
Grayson holds my gaze, and when he speaks, his voice is low, reverent. “No more obstacles. No more threats. No more pretending.” He takes a step closer. “Just you and me, Evans.”
He pauses, emotion flickering across his features. “Marry me. For real this time.”
There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just a deep, settled certainty rising in my chest like light.
“Yes,” I whisper, a smile breaking across my face, wide and a little teary. “Yes.”
And then he kisses me. It’s not hurried or showy. It’s soft, reverent, a kiss that says everything he can’t quite put into words. A kiss that tastes like quiet mornings and shared secrets and forever. I melt into him, my hands sliding up to cup his face, anchoring myself in this moment, inhim. In us. Beneath the Paris sky, wrapped in moonlight and promise, I know without a doubt, this isn’t just an ending. This is the beginning. This is forever.