The morning was pale and quiet.
Rain tapped gently against the windows, not enough to threaten their plans—just enough to make the air feel soft and full.
Aria stood in front of the mirror wearing a cream blouse and slate-gray trousers. No veil. No lace. No borrowed pearls.
She brushed her hair back and smiled faintly at her reflection.
This wasn't a dress-up kind of day.
It was a just us kind of day.
Leon wore a dark navy suit—sharp, clean lines, no tie. When he emerged from the bedroom, he was holding two rings and a folded piece of paper.
Aria looked up. "What's that?"
He tapped the paper. "Vows. I wrote them before we even moved."
She raised an eyebrow. "That long ago?"
"I didn't say I liked them back then."
She laughed. "Want to read them anyway?"
He considered. Then folded the paper again and slipped it into his pocket.
"No. I'll say something better."
The courthouse wasn't crowded.
A quiet Thursday morning, one couple ahead of them—two men in matching sweaters who smiled when they saw Leon offer Aria his hand.
They smiled back.
No one asked for names.
No one recognized them.
It was perfect.
Inside the small room, the magistrate adjusted her glasses and asked softly, "Ready?"
Aria nodded.
Leon didn't speak.
He just turned to face her, taking both of her hands in his.
And the moment stretched—full of breath and memory and meaning.
"I didn't fall in love with you all at once," Aria began."I didn't even realize I had—until I already couldn't imagine leaving."
Leon's grip tightened just slightly.
"You're not a choice I make today. You're the choice I make every day."
A pause.
Then his turn.
"I used to think love was something I'd have to earn." His voice was quiet, but steady.
"That if I failed too many times, I'd lose the right to be known. Or needed."
His eyes met hers.
"You taught me that love isn't a transaction. It's presence. Patience. You."
Aria blinked back something hot.
The magistrate cleared her throat, gently. "Rings?"
Leon produced them from his pocket.
No diamonds.
No engraving.
Just the simplest gold bands—identical.
He slid hers on first.
She did the same.
"By the authority vested in me—""We know," Aria whispered.
And that was that.
They didn't cry.
They laughed.
They walked out into the drizzle and caught a cab, holding hands like teenagers.
The cabbie asked, "Special day?"
Leon just smiled and said, "Yeah."
They had no reception.
No photographer.
But they had a coffee shop on the corner of their street that gave them a quiet window seat and two warm pastries on the house.
Aria held her cup with both hands, watching the raindrops chase each other down the glass.
Leon rested his chin on his hand, just watching her.
"You good?" he asked after a while.
She turned to him, smiling.
"I'm married to the love of my life. So… yeah. I'm good."
Leon's hand drifted toward hers, fingers sliding between her own.
"Me too."
Later that night, the two rings sat on the nightstand, reflecting dim light as they lay curled beside each other.
Not proof.
Not property.
Just quiet, circular promises.
And the apartment—still imperfect, still cluttered—felt, at last, like a vow fulfilled.
End of Volume 2