Ethan didn’t move at first. Couldn’t. Her words, that kiss, the way she said forever like it was already carved into stone — it knocked the breath right out of him. His fingers tightened around hers, thumb brushing slow circles over her knuckles like he could anchor them both there. He lifted her hand again, pressing his lips to her ring finger — longer this time, deliberate, reverent. He smiled against her skin, quiet and sure.

“You think I’ve wrecked you?” he murmured, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. “Marsh, you’ve had me wrecked since the first time you sang me something you swore wasn’t finished.”

She laughed, shaky and bright, and he could see the way it trembled through her — how badly she was trying to play it cool when she was lit up from the inside. God, she didn’t even know.

“You talk about me dropping bombs,” Ethan said, brushing his forehead against hers, “but you don’t realize you just gave me everything. You don’t need to beg for the ring, or the timing, or anything else. Because you’ve already said yes. Every day. In every way that counts.”

He kissed her then, slow and certain, the kind of kiss that felt like planting a flag. When he pulled back, his grin curved — crooked, soft, the one he never let the cameras catch. “The drawer can wait,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “But for the record? If you think I haven’t imagined a thousand times what it’ll be like to finally slip that ring on your finger, you’re out of your mind.”

And then — he shifted. Drew a steady breath. Pressed another kiss to her ring finger. “Alright,” he murmured, voice low but resolute. “No more waiting.”

He rose to his feet, reluctant to let go of her hand but knowing exactly what he was doing. Each step across the room thudded louder in his chest than it should have. He opened the drawer, fingers closing around the small velvet box that had been burning a hole in his life for months. He paused, staring down at it in his palm, feeling the weight of every unsaid word, every almost-moment, every time he’d held back.

When he turned back, she was watching him — eyes wide, lips parted, chest rising unevenly. It nearly undid him.

Ethan walked back slowly, deliberately, like he wanted to memorize every second. He lowered himself down in front of her — not a staged gesture, not a performance, but a reverent surrender.

“Madeline Marsh,” he said, her name heavy with vow, his hand finding hers again as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His voice hitched for a beat, then steadied. “There have been a hundred times I thought I was ready to ask you this — and every one of them, something bigger happened. Something that deserved to stand untouched. And you deserved your moments more than I deserved mine.”

His thumb brushed her ring finger, the box in his other hand trembling only slightly. His eyes never left hers.

“But I’m done waiting. Because the truth is, Marsh, you’ve already been my yes. Every morning. Every song. Every laugh. Every fight we’ve walked through and still landed here. You’ve been my yes long before I had the nerve to ask.”

He opened the box. The ring caught the light — simple, brilliant, perfect.

“So I’m asking you now,” Ethan breathed, reverent and unshakable, every word a vow. “Will you marry me?”

For a second, Maddie just stared. The ring caught the light, dazzling and quiet all at once, and her chest squeezed so tight she forgot how to breathe. Her lips parted, but no sound came out — not until she caught the look in his eyes. Steady. Certain. Hers.

God help her, she was already his. Always had been.

Her throat worked around the lump threatening to spill tears, but instead she laughed — soft, breathless, the kind that curled into something giddy at the edges. “Well, damn,” she whispered, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it. “Guess I really don’t have a choice but to say yes, huh?”

Her grin broke through, wide and unstoppable, even as her eyes glossed with the weight of it all. She leaned forward, cupping his jaw in her hands, and kissed him — slow and tender, with all the certainty of a vow. When she pulled back, her lips hovered against his, her voice low and teasing.

“Yes, Ethan Parker. Of course I’ll marry you.”

She let the words linger, soft and sure, before glancing down at the open box between them. Then her grin sharpened into something playful, her brow arching as she lifted her gaze back to him. “But what are you doing just sitting there holding it?”

Her voice dropped to a mock-scandalized whisper as she tugged his hand closer, her tone equal parts sweet and bossy. “Put it on me. Now. Otherwise this is just bad form, rockstar.”

She wiggled her ring finger at him with exaggerated flair, her laugh bubbling out as she added, “Don’t make me do all the work. You asked, I said yes — follow-through is kind of important here.”

Her smile softened again as her eyes locked on his, her finger still held out between them, waiting. “Come on, Parker,” she murmured, tender under the tease. “Make it official.”

For a moment, Ethan couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Because Maddie Marsh just said yes, and she said it like it was the easiest thing in the world — like forever had already been decided, and he was just catching up.

Her laughter rang out, bright and shaky, and his chest pulled tight. God, she didn’t even realize she’d wrecked him in the best way. He’d imagined this a hundred times, hell, he’d rehearsed it in his head more than he’d admit — but nothing could’ve touched the way she looked at him now, eyes glossed, lips curved, hand steady against his jaw.

Then she was teasing him, wiggling her finger, bossing him like only Maddie could, and it damn near undid him all over again. His grin broke wide, crooked and boyish, because how the hell was he supposed to resist her like that?

“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly, voice cracking just enough to betray the storm in his chest.

With hands that shook more than he wanted them to, Ethan slid the ring free from its velvet home. He caught her hand, steadying it with both of his, and pressed one last kiss to her bare finger before slipping the band down where it belonged. It slid into place like it had been waiting for her all along.

“There,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the diamond, his eyes locked on hers. “Perfect. Exactly where it’s supposed to be.”

He kissed her hand again, lingering this time, then lifted his gaze with a grin that was equal parts reverent and wrecked. “Maddie Marsh, you just made me the luckiest bastard alive.”

And because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and kissed her — deeper this time, tasting the laughter and the vow, sealing it in a way no stage, no crowd, no song could ever compete with.

For a while, Ethan just stayed there, forehead against hers, letting the quiet settle around them. The house, the night, the world itself — all of it blurred out until the only thing he could feel was her hand in his, that new weight on her finger, and the fact that she’d just said yes.

She was his fiancée now. Maddie Marsh. His.

The word rattled around in his head like a chord struck too hard on a guitar, reverberating until it filled every inch of him. He couldn’t stop grinning — not the cocky stage one, not the polite one for cameras, but the kind that cracked him wide open. The kind that only existed with her.

“God, Marsh…” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at her, to really take her in. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see that ring on you.”

Her eyes softened, glossed with more than champagne, and she leaned into his hand on her cheek. He brushed his thumb across her skin, memorizing the way her breath hitched when he did.

And then he laughed — quiet, disbelieving, almost shy. “Fiancée. That’s what you are now. Do you hear that? My fiancée. Guess I’ve gotta start practicing.”

He kissed her again, softer this time, lingering like he wasn’t ready to let the word go.

Pulling back, he dropped onto the couch beside her and tugged her into his lap, still holding her hand up between them just to stare at the ring. His grin curved, boyish and tender all at once. “You’re stuck with me now. No take-backs. I’ll follow you through every dive bar, every stage, every record bin in the world — and you’ll still be the best thing I’ve ever gotten to keep.”

He pressed his lips to her temple, voice dipping low, steady. “And for the record, Marsh — if you don’t wanna change your name, you don’t have to. You’ll still be mine either way.”

His smile tugged wider as he glanced back down at her hand, at the way the ring gleamed even in the dim light. “But Maddie Marsh, future Mrs. Parker… yeah, that’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

For a moment, she couldn’t stop staring. The ring caught the light and glittered back at her, weighty and certain, proof of something she already knew but hadn’t dared to picture this clearly. Her chest felt too full — like champagne bubbles fizzing beneath her ribs, like laughter pressed tight against tears.

Fiancée.

The word tumbled through her head, too big and too perfect, and for a second all she could do was laugh, helpless and bright. She curled her fingers into his shirt, kissing him back until she forgot how to breathe.

When she finally pulled away, she let her forehead rest against his, whispering the word like she had to test it on her own tongue. “Fiancée.” The laugh that followed was softer, a little giddy. “God, that’s insane. You’re insane.”

Her gaze dropped to her hand again, to the diamond that sat so casually where it absolutely didn’t exist five minutes ago. Her heart stuttered. “Maddie Parker,” she murmured under her breath, trying it out, her smile tugging crooked. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

A tiny pang sparked in her chest — quick and fleeting, but real. She thought about the album artwork already finished, the press materials with Maddie Marsh stamped all over them. It was too late for this record, and that was fine. That had been her fight, her resurrection. But next time? Next time it would be different.

She lifted her eyes back to his, a little fire sparking behind the gloss. “This album will say Maddie Marsh, but the next one?” She tipped her head, lips brushing his jaw, her voice dropping into a playful whisper. “Maddie Parker. Has a nice ring to it. Pun very much intended.”

Her grin widened at the groan she earned, and she wiggled her ring finger between them again, admiring the sparkle. “God, look at that. How am I supposed to get anything done now? Every interview, every rehearsal — it’s just gonna be me, staring at my own hand like a lunatic.”

She curled closer onto his lap, tilting her head so her lips brushed his ear, her voice low and teasing. “Hope you’re ready for that, Parker. I’m about to be completely unbearable.”

Her laugh softened into something quieter, more certain, her fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck. “But you did this to me,” she murmured, playful turning reverent. “And I’ve never been happier to be ruined.”

She kissed him then — sweet, lingering, tasting of sugar and champagne and something brand new, the kind of kiss that felt like a beginning wrapped in forever.

Ethan couldn’t stop smiling if he tried. The sound of her saying fiancée — laughing like it was the most impossible, inevitable word in the world — it was branded into him already. He’d never forget it.

He tilted his head, brushing his nose against hers, and let out a low groan at the way she tried his last name on like she was trying on a melody. “Maddie Parker,” he echoed, voice warm, reverent. “Yeah, it does sound good. Too good.” His grin broke wider, boyish and unguarded. “And for the record, Marsh — if you don’t want to change your name, you don’t have to. You’ll still be mine either way. But if you do?” He lifted her hand again, kissing her knuckles with deliberate slowness. “I won’t complain about hearing it.”

Her fire lit something in him, that spark of hers flashing as she declared the next album would bear Parker instead of Marsh. He laughed, shaking his head, eyes shining. “Christ, you’re already thinking about the next album? You haven’t even let this one breathe yet.” His thumb traced over her ring finger again, lingering. “But yeah… Maddie Parker on a record sleeve? That’s history. That’s the one.”

When she teased about staring at her hand for the rest of her life, he leaned back with a crooked grin. “Good. Let ’em all see it. Let ’em all know you said yes.” He kissed her temple, voice dipping lower. “I want them jealous as hell every time that diamond catches a light.”

She curled closer, whispering about being unbearable, and Ethan laughed — low, husky, wrapping an arm tighter around her waist. “Then be unbearable, babe. Ruin every rehearsal, every interview. If you’re ruined, it’s because I did something right.”

Her last kiss had him sinking, his free hand sliding up her back like he never wanted to let go. He broke it only long enough to breathe her name against her lips — a prayer, a vow, a smile all at once.

“Maddie Marsh. Maddie Parker. My fiancée.”

She couldn’t stop staring at the ring. It was hypnotic — not just the sparkle, but what it meant. Every tilt of her hand caught the overhead light, scattering little sparks across the walls like even the house wanted to celebrate with them.

Fiancée. The word still felt unreal. Beautiful. Dangerous. Hers.

And if she was Maddie Parker now — or soon — then of course she had to tell Daphne. Her best friend, her sister in all but blood, the only person in the world who deserved the maid of honor spot without question. Should she call her five minutes from now, let her hear it first through laughter and champagne breath? Or wait, text her to meet up somewhere special, make it more of a moment? Maddie didn’t know yet, but she’d figure it out.

She always figured it out.

That’s who she was. Always a few steps ahead, ever since the industry chewed her up and spat her out the first time. If she didn’t plan, she got played. If she didn’t keep moving, the world forgot. And God, the world’s attention span was shorter than a TikTok clip. No way she was letting them blink and miss her.

Her mind was already leaping ahead — not just to the wedding, not just to telling Daphne, but to songs that hadn’t even been written yet. A second album. A better one. The kind where the liner notes would have his last name stamped right across the cover.

She laughed softly to herself, curling deeper into Ethan’s chest, her fingers brushing the back of his neck. “Careful, Parker,” she murmured, voice equal parts teasing and tender. “You’ve unleashed a monster. I’m already plotting how to tell Daphne, how to plan a wedding, and how to outdo myself on an album that doesn’t even exist yet.”

Her grin tilted against his jaw, sly and sure. “Hope you’re ready to keep up. Because I’m yours… but forever with me comes at full speed.”

She lifted her glass then, clinking it lightly against his abandoned one on the table, her ring catching the overhead light all over again. “So buckle up, fiancé. This ride’s only getting wilder.”

Ethan didn’t take his eyes off her. She was already miles ahead — plotting the call to Daphne, spinning wedding day flashes, even imagining albums that hadn’t been written yet. That was Maddie: momentum in human form. She could burn down a room and rebuild it in a single breath. And he loved her for it. God, he always had.

“Monster?” he repeated, shaking his head, voice low and threaded with awe. “You’re not a monster, Marsh. You’re a hurricane. And I’m not here to outrun it. I’m here to let it rip me apart and put me back together better than I was.”

His thumb traced her knuckles, the diamond scattering light like it was showing off. He thought of the first time he’d seen her under stage lights — not a crowd, not a label exec, not even a setlist could cage her. She was fire with a mic in her hand and stubborn steel in her spine. And he’d known, even then, before he could admit it out loud.

“You think I’ve got to keep up with you?” he said, leaning closer, his laugh quiet and sure. “I don’t want to keep up. I don’t need to. I just want to walk next to you, every damn mile. Whether it’s screaming at producers in the middle of the night, or splitting fries in some dive because neither of us had the energy to cook. Every version of us. I want all of it.”

Her glass clinked against his, a soft ring in the quiet, and he caught her hand before she could lower it. His thumb pressed into her palm, grounding, insistent. “And for the record?” His grin curved crooked, sharp but soft, as he locked his eyes on hers. “You didn’t get me tonight with a ring. You had me the second you sang me something you swore wasn’t finished. You had me when you told me you’d rather crash and burn than play it safe. You had me the night you let me hold your hand under the table, thinking nobody would notice.”

He kissed her ring finger again, slower this time, reverent. “This?” he whispered against her skin. “This just makes it official.”

She stared at him, at the way his words wrapped around her like armor and wildfire all at once, and for the first time in a long time, the past didn’t ache.

The stolen debut. The sleepless nights. The venom from fans who thought loving him gave them the right to hate her. None of it mattered. Because every jagged piece, every scar, every wrong turn had led her here. To this couch, this laugh, this man who’d just vowed to walk every damn mile with her.

And the truth was… she’d fallen for him long before the world knew her name. It wasn’t the spotlight or the guitar or even the songs. It was Ethan himself — the boy who stayed up with her while she tore pages out of notebooks at 3 a.m., swearing she was done, swearing she had nothing left. The one who didn’t flinch when she broke down, who didn’t tell her to toughen up or move on. The one who listened. Who stayed.

She fell in love with the way he made her laugh when she didn’t want to. With the way he kissed her like she wasn’t a headline but a home. With the way he believed in her when she couldn’t even stand to hear her own voice played back.

And she still loved him — not just because of how he loved her, though God, he did that in ways that shook her to her core. But because of who he was.

He was kind when no one was watching. Loyal to a fault. The sort of man who tipped extra when the server looked exhausted, who called his mum just to make her laugh, who went out of his way to make strangers feel seen. He was a brilliant musician, sure, but more than that, he was good. Steady. Honest.

Her chest ached, full to the brim with it, and she reached up to frame his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing the faint stubble at his jaw. Her smile trembled, but it was sure.

Her hands slid up to frame his face, thumbs brushing the faint stubble along his jaw, and she just stared at him — really stared — like she was trying to memorize him down to the smallest detail.

“You know what I see when I look at you?” she whispered. “Not just the guy who wrote a thousand songs or the one who can make a stadium scream. I see the man who carries other people’s weight without ever asking for credit. The one who holds me together when I can’t. The one who doesn’t just love me, but makes me want to be better. That’s who you are, Ethan. That’s who I said yes to.”

Her smile trembled but held, bright through the wet shimmer in her eyes. “And that’s the part I’ll never get tired of. Loving you. Not just the music, not just the madness — you.”

Her forehead pressed to his, the ring flashing under the overhead light as she let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “So I hope you’re ready, Parker. Because this isn’t just forever we’re talking about. This is us — and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Ethan barely heard the hum of the room anymore. All he could hear was her voice, all he could see was her — lit up by the shimmer of a ring he’d barely had the courage to pull out of his pocket an hour ago. And now here she was, wrecking him in the best way, calling him steady, calling him hers.

He hadn’t expected the tears that burned at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t fight them either. Not this time. He let them blur her for a second, then blinked them clear so he wouldn’t miss a thing. Not her trembling smile, not the way her hands framed his face like he was something precious, not the laugh that spilled out of her like the world had finally given her back a piece it had stolen.

God, she didn’t even know. Didn’t know how many nights he’d laid awake thinking he’d ruined it all, that she’d never forgive him. Didn’t know how every version of her — the girl with ink on her fingers at 3 a.m., the woman standing on a stage with fire in her lungs, the one sitting here with his name on her lips — had already been stitched into him long before she said yes.

And now she had.

His chest felt too tight, too full, but he leaned in anyway, pressing his lips to her forehead, lingering there until his breath evened against her skin. “This is it,” he thought, a quiet vow he didn’t even need to say aloud. “This is the life I want. Her. Always her.”

When he finally pulled back, he caught the way the ring threw sparks across the room again, little shards of light flickering between them. His. His fiancée. His forever.

Ethan smiled — soft, crooked, reverent — and tightened his arms around her like he’d never let go.

And he knew, with bone-deep certainty, he wouldn’t.