Albedo had prepared everything to make sure his proposal would go along smoothly.

He had talked about it with Lohen. The exact measurement of her ring finger (while trying not to be surprised that the latter had somehow managed to get her ring size while she was asleep), the color of the engagement ring she would love, the design that would remain timeless, or at least timeless enough for the few months between the question and the day they finally tied the knot.

All the little details about the ring and the words he wanted to say had been arranged so neatly that he would put even the most romantic man alive to shame.

At least, that was what he kept on thinking because he wanted to make sure Alandra did not receive anything less.

The ring had been sitting in his pocket for weeks.

He moved it depending on the clothes he wore, the bags they brought, the weather, the location, the likelihood of Alandra suddenly clinging to him and accidentally discovering the shape of the little box against his side.

When they were at the beach, it had been tucked safely in the inner pocket of his linen outerwear. When they went to dinner at a restaurant with candles arranged along the table, it had rested inside his coat. When they walked through the hotel lobby after breakfast, Alandra in sandals and a soft dress, Lohen walking on her other side while making some dry remark about the terrible coffee, the box had been there too.

It was always there.

It was always ready.

And yet, somehow, never quite right.

He had imagined that Bali would provide the correct moment. There had been too many possibilities not to consider it. A sunset at the beach, the sky bleeding gold and rose over the water, Alandra’s hair stirred by the wind as she laughed because Lohen had stepped too close to the waves and gotten his trousers wet.

He had thought about a resort balcony at night, the ocean dark beyond them, the air smelling faintly of frangipani and salt. A private dinner arranged in advance, flowers, music, the soft glow of warm lamps on polished glass.

Any of those moments would have been acceptable. Beautiful, even.

But each time he reached for the box, something in him hesitated.

Not uncertainty about the answer, no… He knew Alandra’s heart well enough by now to understand that love, for her, was not a fragile thing she hid behind indifference. After all, she loved openly, sometimes too openly for her own nerves.

She had already folded him into all her future sentences without noticing it. She would say things like, when we have a house someday, or if our bedroom has good light, or Lo would absolutely hate that wallpaper, and then continue eating as though she had not just rewired Albedo’s entire mind.

And she loved Lohen with the same certainty, with the same smile and laugh, with the same look in her eyes that shone as bright as when it fell upon him too.

Albedo had once thought love had to be measured in exclusivity to remain sensible. He knew better now. There were bonds that did not diminish because another existed beside them. There were fires that did not steal oxygen from one another, but actually made the room warmer.

Still, when he had stood beside the beach with the ring in his pocket, watching Alandra lift her dress to keep the hem from getting wet while laughing at Lohen’s scowl, Albedo had thought, not yet.

When they had gone to the restaurant with the expensive view, and Alandra had looked beautiful under the soft light, eyes bright over the rim of her glass, he had thought, not here.