The Night Before Forever
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
The restaurant overlooked the water.
Glass walls.
Soft music somewhere in the background.
The kind of place designed for slow evenings and expensive conversations.
But tonight it felt strangely private.
Like the entire city had stepped back and left only us behind.
Candles flickered softly across the table between us.
Gold light against crystal glasses.
Against Grayson's face.
Against the silver watch at his wrist.
I looked at him quietly from across the table.
Tomorrow I am going to marry him.
The thought still did something impossible to my chest every single time it returned.
Something softer and fuller.
Something that felt dangerously close to peace.
Grayson noticed me looking.
His mouth curved slightly.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"That expression means it's something."
I smiled faintly and picked up my wine glass.
"You're very observant."
"You're very expressive."
"I'm not."
"You are with me."
The way he said it settled warmly somewhere beneath my ribs.
Because it was true.
There had been a time when I held everything inside myself.
Carefully.
Quietly.
Like emotions became safer if nobody saw them.
Then Grayson Hawthorne arrived in my life and somehow taught me how to unfold without even trying to.
The waiter appeared briefly with another course.
We thanked him softly.
Then silence settled again.
Comfortable silence.
Outside, Auremont glittered beyond the glass.
The water reflects city lights in long gold lines.
Beautiful.
But not nearly as beautiful as the man sitting across from me looking at me like I was still capable of surprising him.
"You've been staring at me for at least three minutes," he said calmly.
"I'm allowed."
"You are."
I laughed softly.
He reached across the table then.
His fingers brushing slowly against mine before lacing through them.
Warm.
His thumb moved once across my knuckles.
"You're quiet tonight," he said.
"I'm thinking about tomorrow."
His eyes softened immediately.
Just enough that I noticed.
Which was somehow always more dangerous.
"What about it?" he asked quietly.
I looked down briefly at our hands.
Then back at him.
"I think..." I paused softly. "I think a part of me still can't believe this is real."
His gaze never left mine.
"Why?"
Because people like me did not grow up imagining men like Grayson Hawthorne would love them like this.
Because happiness had once felt temporary.
Fragile.
Because I had spent too much of my life preparing myself for things to disappear.
But he already knew all of that.
So I only smiled faintly.
"You ruined my ability to be emotionally detached," I said.
"I'm comfortable with that outcome."
"You should be arrested actually."
"For loving my fiancée?"
"For the psychological damage."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"That seems fair."
I laughed again.
Quietly this time.
His expression changed immediately when he heard it.
Softened completely.
Like my laughter still affected him more than it should.
"You're happy," he said softly.
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then answered honestly.
"Yes."
The word stayed between us.
I saw something move behind his eyes then.
Relief perhaps.
Or gratitude.
As though my happiness still mattered to him in a way he could not entirely explain.
Probably because he loved me in the kind of way that reached beyond language sometimes.
The waiter returned briefly again.
More food.
More wine.
Then gone.
Eventually dinner slowed.
Dessert untouched between us because neither of us was paying attention to it anymore.
The restaurant is quieter now.
Late enough that most tables had emptied.
And somehow the night began feeling heavier.
The kind of night you knew you would remember years later.
I looked at him across the candlelight.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything."
"Were you nervous before you proposed?"
His expression shifted slightly.
Finally,
A weakness.
"Yes."
I smiled immediately.
"You?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe that."
"I almost rescheduled the dinner."
I stared at him.
"You did not."
"I did."
"Grayson Hawthorne nearly cancelled his own proposal?"
"You make me irrational."
"That's genuinely my favourite thing I've ever heard."
He exhaled quietly through a smile.
"I had the ring for eleven days."
"Eleven?"
"I changed the proposal speech four times."
"You had a speech?"
"I had several."
I laughed so hard .
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"What happened to them?"
"I forgot every single one the second I looked at you."
I looked at him quietly afterward.
This man.
This impossible, controlled, composed man who had somehow loved me with his whole heart without ever asking me to become smaller for it.
"You know what my favourite thing about you is?" I asked softly.
"That sounds dangerous."
"You make me feel chosen."
He went still.
I continued quietly before I lost the courage.
"Not convenient or temporary. Not something you fit into your life when there's time." I held his gaze. "Chosen."
The candlelight flickered between us.
His jaw shifted once.
Like emotion had caught him unexpectedly.
Then he stood.
Walked around the table.
And held his hand out to me.
I looked up at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Come here."
I placed my hand in his.
He pulled me gently to my feet.
Then straight into him.
One arm around my waist immediately.
The other against my jaw.
His forehead rested briefly against mine.
"You were always chosen," he said quietly.
The words entered me softly.
I closed my eyes for one small second.
Then opened them again.
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
Then back to my eyes.
"Can I kiss you?" he murmured.
The question made warmth spread through me instantly because this man could touch me whenever he wanted and still chose tenderness.
"Yes," I whispered.
His mouth met mine slowly.
Like he was pouring everything he could not say directly into the kiss instead.
My fingers curled lightly into his jacket.
The restaurant disappeared.
The city disappeared.
There was only this.
Only him.
Only the warmth of his mouth against mine and the quiet certainty that tomorrow I would walk toward him and never walk away again.
When he pulled back his thumb brushed softly beneath my jaw.
"You're going to be beautiful tomorrow," he said quietly.
I smiled faintly.
"Isabella would make sure of that because she loves drama." I said smiling.
"She loves you."
And there it was again.
That truth.
Repeated in different forms all around me lately.
People showing up.
People love loudly.
People staying.
For so long survival had been the loudest thing in my life.
Now love was.
And I still wasn't entirely used to it.
Grayson looked at me carefully then.
"What are you thinking about?"
I answered honestly.
"You."
His expression softened instantly.
"Dangerous answer."
"I'm serious."
I touched the front of his jacket lightly.
"You changed my life."
His eyes searched mine slowly.
"So did you."
The words settled quietly between us.
Tomorrow I will marry this man.
For the first time I wanted him in every room I'd live in .