Chapter 6

Amanda did not ask impulsively. She chose the moment carefully: a quiet afternoon’s walk in the local gardens. She had waited long enough. Waiting had begun to feel like avoidance dressed up as patience. She did not frame it as romance.

“I don’t want drama,” she said, sitting opposite him. “I want something that lasts.”

Corey looked at her, uncertain. She pressed on before he could interrupt.

“I owe you my life. I know that isn’t a reason for love, but it is a reason for commitment. We’re steady together. We make sense.”

She paused, then said the words plainly, without kneeling or flourish. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, Corey felt an almost physical vertigo — the sense of being tipped into a future he hadn’t chosen, but had somehow been walking toward without realising it. He didn’t feel joy. He did not feel dread. What he felt was obligation, settling like a weight he recognised too well. He thought of debts. Of balance sheets no one else could see. Of proving, once again, that he was worth what had been given.

“I’m not ... good at this,” he said carefully.

Amanda nodded. “Neither am I.” She waited. She did not plead. She believed she had already done the hard work — persuading herself.

Corey thought of Petra, and the thought hurt in a way he could no longer pretend was abstract. He thought of walking away, of breaking something cleanly now instead of letting it decay. He also thought of what it would mean to say no.

“I’ll try,” he said at last. “Yes.”

Amanda let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She reached for his hand, steady, certain.

“That’s enough,” she said. “We’ll grow into it.”

Duane was the first to know Amanda’s mind was set. He didn’t confront her. He asked questions instead — careful ones, respectful ones wanting to leave space for reconsideration.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asked.

Amanda smiled, tired but resolved. “I want stability. I want to stop being afraid.”

Duane heard what she did not say.

“This isn’t because you feel you owe him?” he ventured.

She stiffened, just slightly. “Everything I feel is real,” she said. “And even if it began somewhere else, that doesn’t make it less true.”

He didn’t argue further. Duane understood when a door had closed.

“If it ever breaks,” he said, gently, though it hurt deep inside, “you won’t be alone.”

She reached out, squeezed his hand once, then let go.

Petra did not need to be told.

She saw the change immediately — in Amanda’s certainty, in Corey’s new carefulness, in the way the house rearranged itself around an unspoken future. She considered leaving. Truly considered it. Packing would have been simple. Explanation unnecessary. But she stayed. She stayed because love, to her, was not proved by escape. It was proved by endurance — even when endurance hurt.