“But then I realized,” Leo continued, stepping closer. “I can’t ask you for forever. Because ‘forever’ implies a straight line. And you… you’re a scribble. You’re a key change in the middle of a quiet song. You’re the sudden left turn when the GPS said go right.”
“Caprice,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “I’m not going to ask you to marry me.” caprice - marry me
“I’m not asking you to be my wife,” he said. “I’m asking you to be my next caprice. The big one. The one where we wake up one day and we’re old, and you’ve dyed your hair purple this time, and I’ve finally learned to stop planning every meal. I’m asking you to let me be your constant variable while you change everything else.” “But then I realized,” Leo continued, stepping closer
She didn’t say “yes.” She didn’t say “no.” And you… you’re a scribble
Her name was Caprice.
Caprice stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him. For a terrifying second, she looked genuinely uncertain—a rare sight, like a solar eclipse.