One year later.
Autumn in Sea Haven always carried a faint scent of osmanthus.
I had been promoted. I was now the director of the Key Accounts department.
At our celebration party, in front of everyone, Derek handed me a ring. There was no kneeling, no dramatic vows. He just looked at me, his gaze warm and steady.
"Sarah, from now on, let me be the one in your passenger seat, okay?"
I looked at him, at the man who had handed me an umbrella when I was at my lowest, who stayed late with me at work, and who never once asked me to change who I was.
I smiled. I held out my hand.
"Okay."
That weekend, Derek took me to a private kitchen to celebrate. The restaurant was quiet and serene, with a slow cello melody drifting through the lobby.
Derek had gone to the restroom. I sat by the wind
