“Natalie Bennett,” he said, his voice steadier than mine would ever be, “will you marry me?” I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t breathe. “Yes,” I whispered. And the second I said it, the crowd erupted—cheers, clapping, camera flashes—but all I saw was him, still kneeling, looking up at me like I held the stars in my hands. I dropped the glitter sign and dove straight into his arms, and I felt the universe finally exhale around us. And right there, tangled against him and the aftershock of everything, I whispered the only thing that mattered. “I’m yours.”
