Chapter 24 Marry Me?
Marry Me?
I wake to sunlight filtering through the curtains and reach instinctively for Zayn, but my hand finds only cool, empty sheets.
My eyes snap open. His side of the bed is vacant, the covers pulled smooth the way he always does.
I spot something white on his pillow—a folded note with my name on it. Time stops as I grab it.
Cliffside Trail. Sunrise.
Bring Mia. -Z
Eight simple words. No explanation, no fancy love letter. But those words make my pulse race with anticipation. I check the time—5:47 a.m. Sunrise is in approximately twenty minutes. If I hurry, I can reach the overlook as the sun breaks the horizon.
I throw the covers back and leap out of bed, immediately stubbing my toe on the nightstand.
I hop around cursing while yanking open drawers.
What does one wear to a mysterious sunrise meeting?
Is this casual? Is this significant? My mind spins while my hands grab leggings and Zayn’s black hoodie that I’ve claimed as mine—the one that still smells like him even after washing.
I call for Mia while twisting my hair into a messy bun. She appears in the doorway, tail wagging like crazy. “Want to go for a walk?”
She wiggles her entire body and bolts toward the back door, nails scrabbling on hardwood. I shove my feet into boots, grab my phone and keys, and chase after her.
The morning air feels cool and damp on my face, with that fresh feeling that only comes at dawn.
Dewdrops glitter on the grass in our backyard like scattered diamonds.
Mia races ahead to where the trail begins at our property line—the direct route to Cliffside that was a major selling point when Zayn bought this house.
“Slow down, girl,” I laugh, trying to keep pace. My thoughts race. Why today? What makes today special—
Then it hits me. It’s been exactly one year since Zayn returned to Bellrose. One year since I saw him at The Daily Grind, devastatingly handsome in his charcoal suit, and my entire world tilted on its axis.
The path climbs steadily, morning mist making everything look ethereal and dreamlike.
The world seems quiet and magical, like it’s holding its breath waiting for the day to begin.
Mia trots ahead, glancing back now and then to ensure I’m following.
My legs burn from the climb, but I barely notice.
Each step brings me closer to Zayn and whatever surprise awaits at our special place.
Wild roses have taken over the cliffs now, cascading pink and purple blooms spilling down the rocky sides.
I touch a petal wet with morning dew as I walk by.
I could think of all kinds of flowery ways to compare these roses to our love story, but honestly, what’s happening right now feels better than any romance book I’ve read.
As I round the final bend, my heart beats fast with excitement. The bench comes into view—our sanctuary where we’ve spent countless hours this past year talking, healing, and rebuilding what we destroyed.
And there he is.
Zayn stands beside the bench, silhouetted against ocean and sky, looking solid and real and utterly perfect.
The early light makes him appear almost unreal.
He’s wearing jeans and my favorite black henley, the one that makes his blue-gray eyes look like storm clouds.
When he sees me, he smiles, and my knees still go weak exactly like they did when I was eighteen.
“You made it,” he says softly, his voice barely disturbing the peaceful morning.
“Your note wasn’t exactly detailed,” I say, slightly breathless from the climb. “A specific time would have been helpful.”
He laughs and reaches for my hand, pulling me close. That’s when I notice he’s arranged a picnic on a blanket beside the bench—a pink box of pastries from The Daily Grind, a thermos that must contain coffee, and my favorite mug from home with the delicate roses painted around the rim.
“What’s all this for?” I ask while Mia runs circles around us, tail wagging manically.
Zayn guides me to sit beside him on the bench, our thighs touching. “Do you know what today is?”
“Tuesday?” I say, feigning ignorance even though I figured it out during the hike.
His mouth quirks. “One year ago today, I walked into The Daily Grind and saw you for the first time in five years.” He captures my hand, his fingers warm despite the cool morning air. “You turned around, spotted me, and immediately fled.”
“Such a romantic memory,” I tease, but I’m smiling too.
“It was the moment everything in my life finally made sense again,” he says simply.
His raw honesty makes my chest ache. I rest my head on his shoulder and watch the sun begin its ascent over the horizon. The sky transforms to gold and rose, those colors reflecting brilliantly on the ocean below us.
“Hungry?” he asks, reaching for the pastry box.
“Starving,” I admit. I realize I bolted from the house without considering breakfast at all.
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, sharing bites of cinnamon roll and sipping coffee from the same mug. Mia settles at our feet, content that we’re all together. The sun climbs higher, warming our faces and making the wild roses shimmer.
“I have something for you,” Zayn says after we finish eating. He takes out a small box from his jacket pocket. It’s too large for a ring, which floods me with both relief and the tiniest bit of disappointment. My heart accelerates as he places it in my palm.
Inside, nestled on black velvet, is a pretty necklace with a small pressed violet flower pendant. The flower is preserved in clear resin, perfectly suspended in time.
“Zayn,” I whisper, touching the pendant. “It’s beautiful.”
“Like you,” he says with such sincerity that I can’t even mock how cliché that sounds. He takes the necklace and fastens it around my neck with steady hands that don’t tremble like mine always do.
As I admire the necklace, my fingers brush something else—a smaller velvet box hidden beneath the tissue paper. My heart stops completely, then launches into overdrive. I lift it slowly, barely breathing.
Zayn takes it from my shaking hands but doesn’t open it immediately. He doesn’t drop to one knee dramatically—just shifts on the bench to face me fully, our knees touching.
“Sophie.” His voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat.
“I’m not proposing with grand promises or fancy speeches.
We both know those are just words, and words come easily.
” He holds my hand, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles.
“I’m asking because I want to choose you, choose us, every single day for the rest of my life.
When things are easy and when they’re impossibly hard.
When I’m frustrated and when you’re scared.
Every single day, I want to wake up and choose you again. ”
He opens the box to reveal a ring—elegantly simple, with a single diamond set in a delicate gold band. It’s not big or flashy—it’s exactly what I would have selected myself.
“Will you marry me?” he asks quietly.
My eyes flood with tears, but these aren’t the heartbroken tears we’ve shed here before. These are pure joy. “Yes,” I say, laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes, absolutely yes.”
His face breaks into that rare, enormous smile—the one that transforms him from serious attorney to the boy I fell in love with at eighteen. His hands shake slightly as he slides the ring onto my finger.
The sun crests fully over Bellrose while we kiss, warming our skin and illuminating the wild roses surrounding us in golden light. Mia runs in circles at our feet, feeling how happy we are.
Against my lips, Zayn whispers, “Always,” and for the first time in my entire life, that word doesn’t scare me—it simply feels like a promise.
The little bell chimes as Zayn opens the door to The Daily Grind, his hand holding mine tightly.
I keep fidgeting with my ring, spinning it around my finger, still not quite used to its weight.
My engagement ring. Those words feel surreal but wonderful rolling through my mind.
The coffee shop buzzes with the morning rush—customers typing on laptops, the espresso machine hissing and grinding, all the familiar sounds that have accompanied so many important moments between us.
In our usual corner sit the people who matter most. Harper, Sara, Reed, and Dr. Martinez, all acting like they just happened to show up at the same time.
“They know,” I whisper to Zayn, elbowing him gently. “You told them we’re engaged.”
He grins, looking slightly guilty but mostly proud. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and warm cinnamon rolls envelops us as we navigate through the crowded shop.
My palms feel clammy and my heart hammers.
It’s ridiculous to be nervous—these are our closest friends, practically family—but something about announcing our engagement aloud makes my throat feels dry.
Harper spots us first. Her red hair is piled in a chaotic bun, and she’s practically vibrating in her seat.
She elbows Sara, who glances up from her phone and immediately gets a hopeful look on her face.
Reed is nursing what must be at least his third coffee, and Dr. Martinez sits beside him with what are clearly champagne flutes on the table.
They’re all staring at my left hand, which I’ve hidden against my side without thinking about it.
“Well?” Harper demands loudly enough that nearby customers turn to look. “Did you ask her? Did she say yes? Sophie, I swear if you’re hiding your hand on purpose—”
I laugh, feeling tension dissolve as I extend my left hand. The diamond catches morning sunlight, scattering tiny rainbows across the table.
Everyone reacts at once. Harper shrieks loud enough to definitely violate coffee shop etiquette. Sara covers her mouth with both hands, tears already streaming. Reed springs up so fast he nearly topples his chair. And Dr. Martinez actually claps her hands together like a delighted child.
Harper reaches me first, crushing me in a hug that threatens my ribcage.
“I knew it,” she whispers fiercely in my ear.
“I knew he was plotting something when he asked me your ring size.” She pulls back to meet my eyes, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“If you need an escape plan, just say the word. I’ve got a getaway car and fake passports. ”
We dissolve into laughter so intense that tears stream down both our faces and my stomach aches. That’s just like Harper—fiercely protective, always ready to defend me, but genuinely thrilled for my happiness too.
Sara embraces me next, more gently but equally emotional. “I’m so happy for you,” she manages through tears. “You deserve this. Both of you deserve this.” She attempts to wipe her eyes and laughs at herself. “I promised I wouldn’t cry.”
“You cry during commercials,” I remind her, my own throat tightening.
Across the table, Reed engulfs Zayn in one of those masculine hugs involving back-slapping. “Finally made it official, huh?” he says, grinning despite his teasing tone. “Took you long enough.”
“Had to ensure everything was perfect,” Zayn responds, his gaze finding mine. When our eyes connect, heat floods my face.
Dr. Martinez appears with coffee drinks topped with whipped cream and shimmering gold sprinkles. “We need something special today,” she says, beaming. “Tara helped me prepare them.”
Tara waves enthusiastically from behind the counter, her vibrant purple hair bouncing as she nods. Everyone in the coffee shop seems attuned to our joy—customers smile knowingly at us, some even raise their cups like a toast.
“To Sophie and Zayn,” Dr. Martinez lifts her cup. “May your marriage be as sweet as these ridiculously fancy drinks Tara insisted were essential for an engagement announcement.”
“To finally making it official,” Sara adds, still teary-eyed.
“To my best friend,” Harper says, bumping my shoulder affectionately, “and the guy who finally proved he deserves her.”
“To my sister,” Reed says warmly, “and the only man I trust to cherish her properly.”
We clink our cups together, and stories start flowing.
Harper recounts threatening Zayn with bodily harm if he hurt me again, Sara describes the night Zayn appeared at our apartment door looking wrecked, and Reed admits he suspected something was developing between us years ago before everything imploded.
Throughout it all, I keep catching Zayn’s gaze across the table.
It feels like the first day I saw him again—same coffee shop, same morning light, same ambient bustle around us.
But everything is different now. His eyes used to hold sadness and uncertainty; now they radiate warmth and conviction.
My heart used to race with fear when I saw him; now it races because I’m genuinely, completely happy.
“Remember what you told me that day?” he asks quietly during a lull in conversation. “After we kissed in my office?”
I nod, the memory crystal clear. “I said, ‘This doesn’t change anything.’”
He reaches across the table and captures my hand, his thumb brushing my new ring. “And I said it changes everything.”
“You were right,” I admit, something I never imagined saying a year ago. “It changed absolutely everything.”
The coffee shop thrums with life around us—the hiss of steaming milk, the bell announcing new customers, the murmur of morning conversations.
Once, this was where we had our painful reunion, where all my fears built walls I believed would stand forever.
Now it’s the perfect setting to celebrate our future—surrounded by the people who helped us find each other again, in the exact spot where our second chance began.
Harper launches into wedding planning mode, already debating color schemes with Sara. Reed and Dr. Martinez discuss potential ceremony venues. And throughout it all, Zayn keeps watching me, his expression communicating what words can’t: We did it. We made it home.