[MAIN STORY END] Proposal - 12

★★★★★

Everything felt nearly perfect.

The lake shimmered under the dying sunlight — the kind of golden hour that made everything look softer, warmer, like the world was holding its breath just to make this moment feel beautiful.

We sat on the bench near the water. The exact same one where we shared our first kiss years ago. Back when we were younger, more naive, but still… us.

Rafayel was quiet beside me, fingers tapping his cup of melted ice cream, which we both forgot to eat. His shoulder brushed mine occasionally, and neither of us moved away.

The silence wasn't heavy. Not anymore.

Just... Comfortable.

"I used to hate this place." He finally said, voice low. "It reminded me of how happy I was. And how fast I ruined it."

I looked at him. "You didn't ruin anything. We both just broke... at the same time."

He glanced at me then. "Can I tell you the things I should’ve told you back then?"

I nodded. "Only if I get to do the same."

So, we talked.

He started slow, like peeling a wound that’s already scabbed over. Careful not to hurt himself again, but honest enough to bleed a little.

"She drugged me." He said. No hesitation. Just fact. "The actress. After the painting session. I was already tired and stressed. She said it would help me loosen up. It didn't. The drink that was served to me was drugged."

I stayed still. Heart breaking quietly.

"She's in jail now." he continued. "Turns out I wasn't the only victim. At first, I didn't want to fight. I was weak. But Thomas helped me get the justice I deserve."

"You were scared." I said softly.

"I felt disgusting. After that happened, I couldn't even look at you. You were so… pure to me. I thought if I touched you again, I'd stain you."

My throat tightened.

He looked down at the lake, voice quieter now. "The calls you heard? I wasn't in call with some other girl. They were to the suicide hotline. I was barely hanging on. I was scared to open up to you. The only way I knew how to cope was sending voice messages to my aunt that I told you about before. She will never reply, but I kept thinking that she's there, listening. It helped."

I reached over and gently placed my hand on his.

He held it like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I thought I was doing you a favor by letting you go." He whispered. "But the truth is, I was just too scared that you'd be disgusted if you knew the whole story."

I didn't speak. Not yet.

Instead, I took a breath. And opened my own scars.

"My parents died in a crash when I was eight. The ones who raised me after… weren't kind. They saw me as a burden. An extra mouth to feed. Caleb was the only person who cared."

His eyes softened.

I continued. "The day you left, I went back there, for Caleb's mom's birthday. I thought I could stomach it. For him. But they were using me. Again. And when I said no, they beat us. Took Caleb's money. He... he killed himself the next morning."

Rafayel's eyes were glossy now.

"I wish that I had saved him." I whispered. "But I was too late. And I blamed myself every single day."

I looked at him, holding back the emotion in my throat. "And when you started acting distant… I thought I was losing you too. I thought maybe I was cursed. That I ruin everyone who stays."

He pulled me into his arms. No warning. Just wrapped around me like he'd been aching to for years.

"You didn't ruin anything." He whispered against my hair. "We were just... hurt. Two broken people trying to love without knowing how."

We stayed there like that.

Just breathing.

The sun dipped lower, turning the sky into a painting — streaks of amber and lilac, dancing over the water.

I pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face.

"We're still hurting." I said.

He nodded. "Yeah. But the pain isn't bleeding anymore."

"No. It’s not."

And then, without overthinking, without holding back...

I kissed him.

It wasn't like the first time — full of nerves and newness.

It was slower.

Deeper.

Earned.

His hand cupped my cheek, gentle and grounding. My fingers curled into his jacket, feeling the quiet thump of his heart against mine.

When we pulled away, his forehead rested against mine.

"I missed you." He breathed.

"I missed me too." I whispered. "When I was with you, I liked who I was. I want her back."

"Then let's find her again." He smiled. "Together."

The sunset wrapped around us like a promise.And for the first time in years…

Our scars didn't feel ugly anymore.

They just felt real.

Proof that we survived.And maybe... that we still deserved love.

We didn't make a big deal out of it. No dramatic confessions or candlelit dinner proposals.

We just… got back together.

Naturally.

Quietly.

Like breathing.

And somehow, that made it feel even more real.

─── ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ───

That night, after our sunset kiss and years worth of untangling, I asked Rafayel to stay over. It wasn't about sleeping together — I just didn't want him to leave. I wanted his presence beside me. I wanted his laugh echoing in my living room again. His sleepy mumbling. His warmth against the cold.

"Sure." He said, pretending to be casual, but I caught the tiny smile tugging at his lips. "Only if you still have that pathetic excuse of a coffee machine I bought you three years ago."

"Still sitting in the same corner. Still leaking."

"Good. It missed me."

Later, while he was brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush he left in my drawer, I sat cross-legged on the couch and pulled out the phone. Talia's phone.

The one I found when I was cleaning.

The one that started everything.

And the one that brought us back together.

He came out of the bathroom, towel draped around his neck, hair messily damp. He looked at me curiously.

"What's that?"

I held it up, heart fluttering.

"You told me about Talia before, right?

His body stiffened slightly. Then slowly, he nodded. "My aunt. Why?"

I swallowed. "She saved me. From the explosion. Years ago."

He blinked. "Wait—what?"

"She gave me this phone," I said quietly, looking down at the device. "Told me her nephew would call. I never figured it out until now."

Rafayel walked over, gently taking the phone from my hand. His thumb brushed the worn-out charm hanging from the case — the same charm he used to have on his old phone.

"You're the crying girl I talked to before?" He asked, voice hoarse.

I nodded. "I never knew you were her nephew until I found this again. After I came back."

His eyes flickered. "Y-you listened to my voicemails then?"

I smiled, almost shy. "All voicemails."

His face turned red immediately. "God. That's embarrassing. I was… so dramatic."

"You were hurting."

"I called her number like an idiot, pretending she was still around to hear me cry about my paintings and how I suck at love."

"She's listening." I said. "I know she listens. Wherever she is right now."

He looked at me then — really looked. And for a second, all that playful sass he usually wore just melted. There was nothing but warmth in his eyes.

"You really listened to all of it?" He asked, softer this time.

I nodded. "Every word."

He chuckled and flopped beside me on the couch, hiding his red face behind a pillow. "This is so cringe."

I laughed, tugging the pillow down so I could see him again. "Not at all!"

He groaned. "I literally said ‘I almost pissed myself because a cat chased me’ in one of them.”

"That one was my favorite." I said, giggling.

"Oh my god."

We stayed like that for a while — curled up beside each other on the couch, the phone resting quietly between us. A reminder of the pain we carried. The distance we somehow closed.

His head dropped onto my shoulder. "You're still my safe place, you know that?"

I smiled. "You're mine too."

And just like that, everything fell into place.

He didn't sleep on the couch. We fell asleep on my bed, fully clothed, limbs tangled like the old days — his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, my breathing slowing to match his.

No nightmares visited us that night.

Just peace.

And maybe a little hope.

The kind that whispered: You're home now.

This is where love stayed.

─── ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ───

I moved in with him eventually.

Moving in with Rafayel felt... natural.

Like a long sigh of relief after years of holding my breath.

His art studio — now our home — was tucked by the cliffs of Whitesand Bay. There were wide windows that welcomed golden hour, canvases that filled the walls like a diary of color, and a familiar scent of coffee, paint, and the softest hints of lavender. Mine.

He never asked me to move in. It just happened — gradually, quietly. One night turned into two, then three, then I brought my things over, and the next thing I knew, he was making space in his drawers and sticking silly notes on the fridge like: "Y/N's side only: Do not touch unless your name is Y/N or you're ridiculously hot."

We were happy. Truly.

There were no lies. No unanswered questions. No heavy silences.

Just us — two wounded people who refused to let scars ttheir refine their future.

Then, one lazy Sunday morning, Rafayel came into our bedroom holding a tray of pancakes shaped like a duck. Yes. A duck.

I blinked. "Did you… cook?"

He smirked. "I attempted greatness."

I poked the wobbly-shaped pancake with my fork. "Is it safe?"

"Emotionally? No. Physically? …Fifty-fifty."

I laughed and shoved the plate aside, leaning into his chest. "You’re ridiculous."

"I know." He grinned, planting a kiss on my forehead. "Which is why I planned something even more ridiculous."

I looked up. "What now?"

"You're on break, right?" He winked —typical him. "Pack your bags. We’re going on vacation."

─── ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ───

Rafayel refused to tell me where we were going.

I thought he was joking until we reached the airstrip and I saw a private jet with his and my initials painted near the nose.

"Rafayel—" I blinked, nearly dropping my duffel bag. "Is that… yours?!"

"Surprise!!" He grinned like a little kid. "Bought it years ago. Was saving it for something special."

"Years ago?"

"Even when we broke up." He shrugged, almost shyly. "I kept preparing for a future with you. Guess the stupid part of me still believed you'd come back."

I looked at him, my eyes

He smiled — not his usual cocky smirk, but the soft, boyish smile I'd fallen in love with.

We stepped onto the jet, hand in hand. It was spacious, minimalist, and full of sunlight.

But the moment we sat down, something unexpected happened.

A familiar voice echoed from the front.

"Fasten your seatbelts! We're ready for takeoff!"

My heart stopped and breath was caught.

Then — a hologram flickered to life by the cockpit, and there he was.

Caleb.

Smiling.

Wearing his pilot uniform.

Looking as alive as my memories painted him.

I couldn't breathe. Tears rushed down my face faster than I could blink. My hand flew to my mouth as his voice continued with a chuckle, "Don't make me crash this thing now."

Rafayel's hand gently squeezed mine.

"I got the recording from his flight school." he whispered. "They said that it was from a mock exam. I know he means a lot to you so... I prepared this."

I cried—not the ugly, broken kind. But the kind that healed something. Caleb was flying.

Maybe not in body.

But in spirit.

And somehow, he brought us with him.

─── ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ───

We landed on a private island. Our footprints were the first ones to mark the sand that day.

The skies were clear. The sea was crystal. The breeze smelled like salt and freedom.

We ate fresh seafood, swam till sunset, and danced barefoot to old songs blasting from Rafayel's speaker — terribly out of tune but perfect in every way.

He painted a small canvas of me laughing on the beach. I made fun of his seaweed hair moment. We made a bonfire. He serenaded me with a stupid but cute love song. His voice is magical.

It was heaven.

But nothing — nothing — could've prepared me for the last night of this paper.

The sun was setting again. Golden and blazing, like the universe paused just to watch.

We were walking along the shore, our hands brushing, our footprints chasing the tide. I turned to him, smiling, when he suddenly stopped.

"Y/N." he said softly.

"Hm?"

He turned to face me fully. And I noticed it then — the nervous twitch of his fingers, the way his other hand reached into his pocket.

My breath hitched.

"Rafayel…?"

He slowly got down on one knee.

"I used to think love was supposed to be painful. That we had to suffer to make it feel real. But then I met you. And you were everything I never deserved — and still got. You saw me when I was broken, when I was unbearable. You saved me."

I couldn't stop crying.

He smiled through loving eyes. "Y/N, I want to build every day of my life with you. The messy ones. The boring ones. The beautiful, unforgettable ones. So, will you — with all your strength, softness, sarcasm, and heart — will you marry me?"

I dropped to my knees, sobbing and laughing at the same time.

"Yes. A thousand times, yes!"

He slipped the ring on my finger — simple, elegant, familiar.

And then he kissed me under the sunset.

Just like our beginning. Because that's what it was.

Not the end of a love story.

But the start of forever.

★★★★★

will post Rafayel's pov soon as epilogue<3