Whiter Rose: The Proposal
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AndrewJTalon
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The Aslanmas lunch had been perfect—elegant but not stuffy, held in the glass-walled conservatory of one of Atlas's oldest restaurants, overlooking the snow-covered botanical gardens below. Ruby and Whitley had enjoyed it. Ruby had filled most of the time with her chatter, asked thoughtful questions, and blushed every time Whitley's hand found hers under the table. Whitley had been quiet. Even quieter than usual.
Now the two of them strolled a lighted path through the gardens themselves. Snow fell in fat, lazy flakes, catching in Ruby's dark hair like stars. Something Whitley stared at intensely.
Whitley's heart hammered so loudly he was sure Ruby could hear it. The small velvet box in his coat pocket felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
He stopped beneath a wrought-iron arch heavy with frost-laden evergreens. Ruby paused beside him, tilting her head.
"Everything okay?" she asked, silver eyes soft with concern.
Whitley swallowed. He'd rehearsed this a hundred times—elegant words, perfect phrasing—but every script fled his mind the moment he looked at her.
"Ruby," he started, voice quieter than he intended. "I… need to say something."
She waited, patient as always. Snowflakes melted on her lashes.
He took both her gloved hands in his.
"I used to think the world was a ledger," he said. "Assets and liabilities, numbers and variables. Influence and control. My father taught me that love was just another transaction—something you leveraged or lost." His throat tightened. "I was cruel because I was terrified of being weak. Of being worthless if I didn't win."
Ruby's fingers squeezed his gently. She didn't interrupt; she never did when someone was finally being honest.
"Then you crashed into my life—literally, sometimes—and you… you never treated people like numbers. You saw worth in everyone. Even me, when I gave you every reason not to." He laughed, a small, shaky sound. "You believed I could be better. And somehow, because you believed it, I started to."
He dropped to one knee in the snow, not caring that the cold soaked through his trousers. The box came out with fingers that barely trembled.
Ruby's eyes widened.
"I don't have a grand speech," Whitley said, opening the box to reveal a ring—white gold shaped like delicate rose petals, set with a single ruby that caught the garden lights like captured starlight. "I just know that every day since the war ended, I've woken up wanting to be the kind of man who deserves to stand next to you. Not because of my name or money or anything I can give you—because I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you've made me."
He looked up at her, blue eyes steady despite the tears threatening.
"Ruby Rose, will you marry me?"
For a heartbeat, the only sound was snow falling.
Then Ruby dropped to her knees too, right there in the snow, cupping his face in her mittened hands.
"Yes," she whispered, laughing through sudden tears. "Yes, of course, you ridiculous, wonderful man."
She kissed him—fierce and sweet and tasting of winter air and hot chocolate from lunch. Whitley's arms went around her, ring box forgotten in the snow as he held her like she was the only real thing in the universe.
Now the two of them strolled a lighted path through the gardens themselves. Snow fell in fat, lazy flakes, catching in Ruby's dark hair like stars. Something Whitley stared at intensely.
Whitley's heart hammered so loudly he was sure Ruby could hear it. The small velvet box in his coat pocket felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
He stopped beneath a wrought-iron arch heavy with frost-laden evergreens. Ruby paused beside him, tilting her head.
"Everything okay?" she asked, silver eyes soft with concern.
Whitley swallowed. He'd rehearsed this a hundred times—elegant words, perfect phrasing—but every script fled his mind the moment he looked at her.
"Ruby," he started, voice quieter than he intended. "I… need to say something."
She waited, patient as always. Snowflakes melted on her lashes.
He took both her gloved hands in his.
"I used to think the world was a ledger," he said. "Assets and liabilities, numbers and variables. Influence and control. My father taught me that love was just another transaction—something you leveraged or lost." His throat tightened. "I was cruel because I was terrified of being weak. Of being worthless if I didn't win."
Ruby's fingers squeezed his gently. She didn't interrupt; she never did when someone was finally being honest.
"Then you crashed into my life—literally, sometimes—and you… you never treated people like numbers. You saw worth in everyone. Even me, when I gave you every reason not to." He laughed, a small, shaky sound. "You believed I could be better. And somehow, because you believed it, I started to."
He dropped to one knee in the snow, not caring that the cold soaked through his trousers. The box came out with fingers that barely trembled.
Ruby's eyes widened.
"I don't have a grand speech," Whitley said, opening the box to reveal a ring—white gold shaped like delicate rose petals, set with a single ruby that caught the garden lights like captured starlight. "I just know that every day since the war ended, I've woken up wanting to be the kind of man who deserves to stand next to you. Not because of my name or money or anything I can give you—because I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you've made me."
He looked up at her, blue eyes steady despite the tears threatening.
"Ruby Rose, will you marry me?"
For a heartbeat, the only sound was snow falling.
Then Ruby dropped to her knees too, right there in the snow, cupping his face in her mittened hands.
"Yes," she whispered, laughing through sudden tears. "Yes, of course, you ridiculous, wonderful man."
She kissed him—fierce and sweet and tasting of winter air and hot chocolate from lunch. Whitley's arms went around her, ring box forgotten in the snow as he held her like she was the only real thing in the universe.