Love through wheels

Permission for a date

Juliet returned to James’ house, her steps slower than usual, as if the walls themselves were watching her.

She pushed open her door—

—and froze.

On the bed lay a dress. Not just any dress.

Carefully arranged. Waiting.

Beside it, a pair of stiletto heels. A single red rose. A novel. And a handwritten letter.

Her chest tightened.

She moved closer, each step cautious, like she expected the scene to disappear if she blinked. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the letter and unfolded it.

Would you love to be my date tonight?

The words burned into her eyes.

For a moment, she didn’t breathe.

Then suddenly—

She turned and walked out, faster now. Not knocking. Not thinking.

She pushed open James’ door.

He was there. In his wheelchair. Watching her.

Juliet didn’t greet him. Didn’t hesitate. She walked straight in and dropped into the chair opposite him, holding up the letter like evidence.

“You wrote this?” Her voice was sharp, almost accusing.

James didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me directly?” she demanded.

A pause.

“I did.”

Juliet let out a short, disbelieving laugh, lifting the letter higher. “This? This is asking me directly?”

“I wanted you to read it,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on hers. “So you’d understand I meant every word.”

Silence stretched between them—tight, suffocating.

Then he leaned forward slightly.

“So… would you love to be my date tonight?”

Juliet’s grip on the letter tightened. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

“What if I start disrespecting you?” she shot back, her voice wavering despite her effort to sound firm.

A flicker of something crossed James’ face—something almost like amusement.

“You’ve been disrespecting me since the first day you walked in here.”

The words hit harder than she expected.

Another silence.

Heavy. Loaded.

“So,” James said again, quieter this time, but more intense, “will you be my date tonight?”

Juliet hesitated.

For a second too long.

Then—“Yes.”

The word slipped out before she could stop it.

She stood up immediately, as if staying any longer would expose too much. “Thank you… for the novel,” she added quickly, avoiding his gaze.

And then she turned and walked out.

But the moment she stepped into the hallway, her composure cracked.

Her heart raced. Her thoughts tangled.

And behind her—

James didn’t move.

He just watched the door she had closed…

as if he was already waiting for tonight.