Chapter 8 - THE HEALING TOUCH
The spring flowers were blooming across Columbus, painting the parks in vibrant shades of pink, yellow, and violet. The physical scars on my face were healing remarkably well; Dr. Henderson had done a masterclass job, and with specialized dermatological care, the titanium plates were completely secure beneath smooth, healthy skin.
One evening, Wyatt took me out for a surprise dinner at the very same rooftop restaurant where he had first proposed to me two years ago.
The city lights twinkled like a million diamonds across the horizon. We sat at our favorite corner table, sipping sparkling cider and laughing over stories of our childhoods.
“You know,” Wyatt said, setting his glass down and reaching across the white tablecloth to take my hand, “when I saw your father swing that brick… time literally stopped for me. I thought I was going to lose you.”
I squeezed his hand back, tracing the calloused knuckles of a man who had fought for me in the rose bushes and stood by my hospital bed through every agonizing moment.
“You didn't lose me, Wyatt,” I said softly. “You saved me.”
“No, Sadie,” he replied, looking deep into my eyes with fierce devotion. “You saved yourself. I just made sure I was there to catch you when you fell.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. My breath caught in my throat.
“We never finished that wedding announcement dinner,” Wyatt said, his voice thick with emotion as he popped open the box. Resting inside was a brand-new platinum ring, encrusted with a breathtaking, flawless diamond that sparkled in the candlelight. “Let’s do it right this time. No parents, no cameras, no toxic shadows. Just you, me, and a beach in Maui this coming June.”
Tears welled up in my eyes—real tears of joy, untainted by pain or fear.
May you like
“Yes,” I whispered, leaning across the table as he slid the ring onto my finger. “A thousand times, yes.”
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