Chapter Twenty-Four
Spring doesn’t wait for permission.
It breaks through the city in soft greens and stubborn blooms, filling sidewalks with color and possibility. The air smells new again—like rain and open windows and something beginning.
Wedding planning becomes a background hum rather than a consuming noise. Dates are set. Invitations chosen. Decisions made without drama. We move through it the way we move through everything now—side by side, honest, unhurried.
One afternoon, we tour a small garden tucked between old buildings. Sunlight filters through budding trees, scattering shadows across the stone path.
“This is it,” Noah says quietly.
I don’t need time to think. I feel it immediately—the calm certainty, the way my chest settles instead of tightens.
“Yes,” I say. “This fee
