Lila's P.O.V
The ring caught the light every time I moved my hand, a quiet sparkle that still felt surreal. Six months had blurred past in a whirlwind of decisions, laughter, and a kind of peace I hadn't known I was capable of feeling again. After that third date with Ethan—dinner under the stars at a vineyard just outside Blackwood, where he'd listened to me ramble about the manor's leaky roofs and my half-baked greenhouse plans without once checking his watch—I'd gone home knowing. He was the one. Not fire or chaos or some tortured artist's dream. Just steady, kind, real. The man who made me feel seen without making me feel hunted.
We'd sat on the vine-covered terrace that night, wine glasses empty, his hand warm over mine. "Lila," he'd said, voice soft against the crickets, "I don't w
