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You have been dreading this day for a very long time.

The sun is warm against your skin and there is sand between your toes: a reminder of the hour before when you had dug them deep into the soft white beach, wiggling your toes to bring them back to the surface.

You had been happy. You had been having fun. A glow, outside and in, that only became obvious when the shadow took its place.

It had been such a short walk from the beach to the veranda that you decided to forgo your shoes and hopped over the sharp rocks in bare feet. You have done it so many times before that your steps are sure, despite the slight sting.

Darren was holding out a glass before you even finished your surefooted assent and you managed to grasp it on your final leap past him. His smile as big as yours. Your leap had brought you chest to chest and he reaches forward tucking a wayward strand of your hair back behind your ear.

You hardly see the point as the breeze tugs it back to tickle at your nose.

The rest of your friends are inside. A large sheet of glass separates you from them. Janey waves at you sheepishly from inside. You wave back with a little unease, there was something in her expression. Something odd. You go to make your way inside but Darren puts a hand on your arm.

“Stay with me a while.”

You smile and agree. After all they had spent the entire weekend with their friends. A short moment of just the two of you seems blissful.

He never asked, Darren.

It was one of the reasons you so quickly fell in together. He didn’t want to talk about his past. You didn’t want to talk about yours. Both of you able to be the person you wanted to be without the person you used to be getting in the way.

So accepting. He made it so easy.

And yes, there were times when he gave you an opening. Sat on the sofa, a room away, while you whispered hurriedly and urgently down the phone, the hard wood of the stairs numbing your legs because it takes so long. The first time you had returned to his presence with a curling fear in your gut, mouth dry and throat tight from the effort of not crying.

Darren had looked and waited. You weren’t sure what you expected. For him to demand to know what was going on? Or to ignore it completely? He had waited for you to make the choice. And you did.

You said nothing. Just curled into his side; not pretending just not discussing. By giving the choice to you he had allowed you privacy, whilst offering you a chance to talk; and by you neither talking nor denying had allowed things to carry on as they are but acknowledging that one day, they might not be.

You had never talked.

He had never asked.

You both stare out at the sea for a moment, breathing in salt and sunshine. You take a long pull from your glass and it’s not the dry white you had been expecting but a glass full of bubbles. Sweet and tart it causes you to give Darren a confused look. He knows you’re not overly fussed on Champagne.

He looks nervous. His eyes are watery and there’s a sheen of sweat to his brow that cannot be attributed to the heat alone and you think, this is it.

This is the moment where he wants the truth. Where he breaks it off and leaves you alone. An overwhelming moment of sadness is quickly replaced with fear when you realize that his face is scared not sad.

You know even before he moves what is happening. A quick glance to the window sees all your friends lined up with fluted glasses trying not to be too obvious that they are watching from behind the glass.

Panic flushes through you, because you can’t. You really can’t. No matter how much you love him there is no way this can happen.

And you are going to have to explain why. Not just to him, but to all of them.

Tears stream down your face as he gets down on one knee and brings a red ring box into view. Inside is a small circular ruby that is the centre of a delicate platinum rose. You know it would fit perfectly because over three months ago you had tried it on in New York.

The two of you playing desperate lovers. Walking hand in hand through a snow covered Central Park had turned you both giddy and you went into Armani where you made him get measured and try on a suit or two, umming and ahing over watches that were triple your yearly salary.

You were in Cartier when you saw it. Darren talking loudly about buying you a gift, an attendant was very willing to help you both find the perfect fit. There were necklaces and bracelets that you try on with a flourish. Making sure Darren always gave his opinion. It was a joke. It was fun.

The ring drew your attention whilst you over hear Darren tell the assistant that you were only here until Friday, so you better make up your damn mind. He even went so far to ask for the assistants name so you could ask for him when you came back. Never had he met such good customer service.

You had stopped listening.

The ring wasn’t anywhere near the price of the other items you had looked at. But still it was enough to make you wince. Maybe because, unlike the others you actually wanted it. The metal petals reminding you of your father’s rose bushes and the stone fills you with its warm glow. A pulse that takes you back to before you had to hide a part of yourself.

You thought he hadn’t noticed.

It’s clear from the look on his face he thinks that they are happy tears on your cheeks. The burn of shame in your chest wants you to grab him and haul him away from prying eyes and tell him everything. Every reason why what he’s about to ask is impossible.

You are going to lose them all.

It was the mistake of a child and yet here you are here. Unable to fix it. Unable to ignore it. To let this continue is just plain cruel but you want to hear what he’s going to say. You want to hear and remember the last kind thing he will ever think of you.

Darren smiles.

“There is a library in your silences. I want to learn to read them if you’d let me. Will you marry me?”  

Just say it, you silently remind yourself. You know you’ll regret it if you don’t. You have been silent for so long that the right words are extremely hard to find. Just say it. You tell yourself.

“Yes.”