TROSR: Chapter V
We Made it Official
| KiY
It’s like he pulled our date straight out of my dreams and laid it here in real life. We used to visit this famous waterfall off H3 all the time—tucked between tall green pastures that swallowed every worry. A mini escape that melted the world away. The trail was usually fifteen, maybe twenty-five minutes if we were talking too much. But in the carriage, it took eight.
No phones—Micah’s rule.
He had a tripod already set near our table for pictures later, which I didn’t mind. Our friends were blowing up our group chat anyway, trying to squeeze every detail out of me.
“So,” Micah says, sipping my Mai Tai even though his own drink was perfectly fine. The catering company he hired had us floating through a whole island cruise of flavor. “What are your thoughts?”
“For once…I’m actually out of my head,” I told him. I fluffed the ends of my curls, and he caught my hand across the table. His eyes sparkled under the sunset, catching glimmers from the waterfall behind him, turning the moment into a well-balanced mirage.
“This place feels like I’m floating.”
His smile outshined the candle between us. “Then we’re nearly there.”
He cued two waiters—poor things looked hilariously out of place in their formal penguin suits among all this tropical air. One placed the oxtail in front of me, and my stomach growled like it had been waiting all week. Perfectly tender, slow-braised, carrying that deep Jamaican warmth that seeps into the bones. The gravy was glossy, fragrant with thyme and star anise, the kind of scent that makes you pause because something ancestral just tapped you on the shoulder.
“In the middle of eating, he says, “I wanted to give you a taste of my home. Roots I grew up with.”
I nodded, covering my mouth to finish chewing. “Well, your home tasted rich in spices and butter. That definitely checks my boxes for great food.”
He laughed, full-chested and warm. “Can I check more?”
“Please do.”
He lifted his hand again, and the second course made my eyes pop. The grilled snapper arrived cradled in its banana leaf. When the waiter unfolded it, steam curled up like a secret unfurling itself. Lime zest, coconut cream, ginger—each breath of it felt like the ocean bowing in approval.
Then Micah reached across the table and shifted something toward me.
Not a plate. Not the fish. Something smaller.
A bowl.
Dark island wood, carved with grooves that looked older than both of us combined. I thought it was just decor for a heartbeat. Then I saw what was nestled inside.
A soft blue cloth—my color, always—holding a seashell the exact shade of memory. White, sun-worn, spiraled like it was turning back time.
My breath caught hard.
I knew that shell. Down to the chipped edge on the side. The one I found on our hike months ago. The one he teased me for pocketing like it was treasure. The one I lost somewhere between airports and life and chaos.
I remember thinking maybe it wasn’t meant to stay with me.
But here it was.
Micah didn’t explain. He didn’t gesture. He just set it beside my plate like it belonged here, like it had been waiting for its moment. As if he hadn’t gone back for it. As if he hadn’t kept it safe.
Warmth pooled in my chest, spreading until it felt like light.
“Mic,” I whispered, lifting the shell and holding it near my heart. Tears prickled before I could stop them. “This means a lot to me.”
“I know,” he said softly. “And what better way to remind you of that?”
The tears fell anyway. I sniffed, wiping gently. “I’m not going to make it through dessert with my makeup intact.”
“You don’t need to,” he murmured. “You’re gorgeous either way.”
“Okay, you’ve obviously been busy planning all this.” I noticed the delicate chain wrapped around the cloth—a custom bracelet to attach the shell to my wrist. I let it spin lightly in my fingers. “Who helped you?”
He leaned back, arms crossed like he’d just solved world peace. “Gabe and Chris. Gabe with the location, Chris with the food. Top tier, right?”
“It’s exquisite.” I forked up the last bit of snapper, savoring every whisper of flavor.
Then Micah tilted his head, studying me. “So, Miss Kiyanna…why celebrate our one-year anniversary on the summer solstice?”
“Because this day captures our spirit,” I answered easily. “Even though I asked you out around Christmas, nobody said we had to keep it there. We went through a lot in that cabin. I think the solstice is more fitting—a little metamorphosis.”
I paused at his expression. “What?”
“You’re so alluring when your words strike like that.”
“And you know I’m not exactly a fan of surprises,” I laughed softly. “But you…you may have convinced me not to fight them.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.”
“Why?”
He gave me that look—the one that always felt like he was holding a secret between his teeth.
“Because,” he said, voice smooth, “I’m just getting started.”
| MiC
This has been harder than I expected. Sitting across from her, feeling everything swirl at me like a snowball—or a tornado. I didn’t expect perfection, but the night had a script of its own. Every glance, every laugh, every pause between us felt prewritten. I had to hide the clamminess in my hands, the ragged pull of my breath. I was unraveling. The more we ate, the more we talked, the easier it felt—and that was exactly why I was terrified.
“Kiy,” I said, and her lashes lifted, scanning me like she could read the marrow of my bones. “Ready for dessert?”
“Can we walk first?” Her smile warmed the space between us, her hand patting her full stomach. “I want to last, and that food… it’s making me drift.”
I chuckled. Her cheeks were soft with color. “Sure. Let’s go.” I rose first, sliding my chair back, holding out my hand. She took it, shaking her curls playfully.
“You’re making fun of me,” she said, voice teasing.
I almost stopped. She sees everything. Always has. “Not at all. That food has weight.”
“It was delicious!” Her laugh was a warm bell. “My taste buds have never been happier. But yeah… a nap and tea would hit the spot right about now.”
“We’re almost done, meu lar. I promise.”
Side by side, we walked toward the waterfall. Mist rose and curled, a subtle rainbow arched across it, perfectly timed, perfectly framed.
“Are you happy, Mic?”
I blinked.
Her bluntness was refreshing. My hand lifted instinctively, brushing a stray drop from her cheek. “More than you think.”
Everything—the waterfall, her voice, the light, the scent of wet stone—was gnawing at me. If I didn’t act now, I’d lose it. She needed to know: my happiness was only a fraction of this moment.
She is joy.
“Kiy, wait—” I tugged her hand, and she stopped at the cliff’s edge, tilting her head. “I… uh—” The teal box pressed heavy against my thigh.
She leaned into me, pulled my face to hers, and kissed me. Heartbeat slowed, air paused, the world contracted to just us. My arms wrapped around her, deepening the kiss. Familiar, yet every bit new. She probably didn’t know how grounding that was for me.
“Mic, I want to—”
“Marry me, Kiy.”
The words tumbled out before I could stop them. They hung, trembling, electric. Her eyes closed, her body shook, letting herself feel everything folding into this pool of euphoria. When she calmed slightly, I guided her to sit on a nearby rock, her gaze piercing.
“I didn’t expect to say it like that,” I said, pacing to catch my breath, to catch my words. “But you do that to me. You make me feel so safe, so at ease… delivery doesn’t matter. I’m ready. Ready for forever. Ready to spend every day and night together, living out loud.”
I drew the Tiffany box from my pocket, fumbling with the fabric and tied ribbon. She hid her face, shielding tears. “Baby… look at me.”
Dropping to one knee, I exhaled. “It took lifetimes and years to get this right, but I’m here. I’ll go to battle beside you. Sleep beside you. Cry, laugh, even get mad over what matters to you. As your partner, I’ll carry your tears…” I brushed her cheek softly. “…even the happy ones.” I kissed it lightly.
“Kiyanna Jorelle Johari…” I paused, lifting the pear-shaped diamond. The technicolor band caught the last sunlight like fire. “…will you give me the extraordinary pleasure of becoming Mrs. Micah Solan Darring?”
Sliding it onto her finger, the world brightened. Birds sang. Leaves whispered. Insects and frogs added a chorus that only seemed orchestrated for us.
Time held its breath. Kiy leaped into my arms; we fell to the ground, laughing, crying, and holding each other through it all.
“Hell yes, Mr. Darring,” she gasped, breathless. “That’s a hell yes!”
| KiY
I was utterly speechless.
My tears streamed down uncontrollably as I wiped them on my hands. My bright shining hand, weighing more than gold. He held me tightly, ensuring that the overwhelming reality of the situation wouldn’t cause me to shatter into a million pieces.
“You think we’re ready for this?” I asked him.
He kissed my forehead as we watched the waterfall shimmer in front of us, mist rising while we lounged against the rock.
“Wouldn’t go through great lengths if we wasn’t.” He picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the water—three clean measures. “I’m not betting on the future. I just know… I couldn’t go anywhere else without you. I love you, Kiyanna. Always.”
“I love you too,” I said, my voice steady now. “So much.”
We sat there, listening. The water, the wind, the distant birds—everything blended into a rhythm that felt certain. Anchored. Safe. And somewhere between his arm tightening around me and his quiet laugh brushing my ear, it settled in.
I’m getting married.
We are engaged.
The thought didn’t rush me. It didn’t scare me. It bloomed slowly, warm and sure. I was getting married to the most caring, selfless man I had ever met. And him—holding me close, laughing softly, skipping pebbles across the water like the world wasn’t heavy at all—was the reason worry couldn’t reach me.
Not this time.
He brushed his thumb beneath my eyes, catching the last of my tears before they could fall. A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “You know,” he said softly, “crying only makes you more beautiful.”
I scoffed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Liar. I’m an ugly cryer. My nose does this whole thing. It’s tragic.”
He laughed, full and unguarded, and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Still breathtaking.”
“Bias,” I muttered, wiping my face again. “Severe bias.”
“Guilty,” he said, standing and offering me his hand. “Now come on, princess. I promised dessert, and I don’t intend to let all this emotional labor go unrewarded.”
I slipped my hand into his, laughing as he pulled me up. The weight lifted. The certainty stayed. And just like that, we stepped back into the date—sticky fingers, sweet endings, and the quiet knowledge that whatever came next, we were already choosing each other.
There were three other trinkets he had tucked away. He told me the proposal was supposed to be the last reveal—but when he saw me by the waterfall, something shifted. He didn’t wait. And I keep thanking the heavens that he didn’t.
I haven’t been able to stop smiling.
The new shimmer on my hand—two delicate bands hugging my ring finger—felt inevitable. Like my body had been waiting for them. Like they belonged there long before today.
Normally coconut overwhelms me, but this—balanced, warm, intentional—was the perfect ending to an already beautiful course. I made a mental note to find the baker Micah used. Julia would love the connection.
The three other trinkets landed briefly like they could rest on their own. Quiet. Powerful. Enough to steal my breath. I let my fork rest against the plate and my eyes wandered back to the table between us.
The flower was pressed so carefully it almost felt intentional, like someone had trusted it to last. The color had softened over time—sun-warmed, patient. Fragile in the way things are when they survive anyway.
The torn page sat beside it, paper worn thin, its edges uneven, as if it had been pulled free in a moment that mattered. There was a note in the margin. Not pretty. Honest. Familiar in a way I couldn’t place, like the thought knew me before.
Then the tape.
Even still, it didn’t feel quiet. It felt alive—like laughter caught mid-breath, like someone had pressed record because the moment refused to be forgotten.
I swallowed, something warm settling in my chest, though I couldn’t have said why.
I glanced up at Micah. He was watching me—not the things on the table, but me—like he already knew what I was feeling and was letting me have it anyway. He dragged his tongue over the spoon, and my eyes betrayed me, lingering on his mouth before catching his expression. Lighter. Fuller. At peace.
“So,” I asked, nudging my fork into the coconut rum cake, “these were all from the beginning?”
“Kind of,” he said. “I kept pieces of you. Even when we weren’t together. From different places in our lives.” A pause. “Maybe even different timelines.”
“We’ve really been on Earth since—”
“The beginning.”
I blinked. “Like… Eden beginning?”
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me. You know those dreams you used to have?” His voice softened. “I’m having them now.”
“Like memories?” I asked. “Flashes?”
“Yeah. That’s why I want Cairo. Not just as a trip. As us.” His eyes held mine. “As something solidified. Maybe we finally get our origin story.”
I smirked. Our minds were too alike. “Nerd.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “Like I didn’t find ancient Egyptian scribes tucked into your books. You’re just as curious.”
“And planning a wedding would be…?”
“The icing on the cake.” He leaned back, arms stretched overhead. “Can’t move forward without knowing where you’ve been.”
I nodded, warmth spreading through me. “Looks like we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
He smiled—slow, certain. “Best part is, we’ll be doing it together.”
| MiC
We pulled up to North Shore, and I could already hear Kiy’s friends screaming before we even passed the bouncer. My guys were posted at the bar, mid-order. I leaned in and kissed her slow—deliberate, unhurried—until I felt her exhale. That was enough. I was fulfilled.
“Where is it?! Where is it?!” Stembie was the first to reach her, pulling Kiy into a hug as the rest swarmed in.
Kiy lifted her left hand.
They froze.
“DAMNNNNN, Mic!”
Their faces said gaul-smacked before their mouths ever could. Then examined the diamonds and crystals meticulously sketched into a Tiffany original.
I chuckled and slid a hand around her waist, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ma go—hey, ladies.”
“Hey, Mic,” they sang back in unison.
I rounded the corner to the bar while they slow-clapped like I’d just hit a game-winning shot.
“This guy making it happen,” Gabe said, clapping my back and sliding a drink over. “Here’s to your first marriage.”
“Only marriage,” I corrected easily. “No offense to y’all, but I ain’t doing this again. It’s one and done.”
Zune shrugged. “Can’t blame us—got married young.”
Chris lifted his glass with a grunt. “Yeah, and not with the women we have now. We were impatient. Ignored all …. red signs.”
“This ain’t that though,” Gabe declared, firm, giving my shoulder another pat. “Y’all calculated. Like the universe stitched this one together on purpose.”
I grinned, tipping the ice forward in my glass. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“You cool if Hitch meets us?” Gabe asked as we headed toward the VIP table. “His date bailed.”
I snorted. “Damn. Third one this week? Dude’s striking out with the locals.”
“Or his game only works on the court,” Zune shot back, already pulling Autumn onto his lap.
She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him like rent was due. We were all used to the extra affection.
I wasn’t any different.
I came up behind Kiy with our drinks and draped my arms over her shoulders. I didn’t need to see her face to know she was smiling wide. Such a rendering glow. She took the glass and turned into me.
“Thank you, fiancé,” she said, sipping her Blue Hawaiian. The end of her lips already pouted blue.
“Keep talking like that,” I murmured. “ I’ll be happy leave them all.”
“Stop,” Her new, dazzling hand rested on my chest, and I swear our heartbeats synced.
“They won’t leave us alone if we leave them out the celebration. You want a repeat?”
I shook my head, smirking. “Definitely.”
“You’re impossible,” she said, walking away to sit.
I watched her go, knowing full well—our conversation wasn’t even close to over.
After Northshore burned itself out, someone suggested The Low Tide. Just a dive bar crouched close to the beach, windows open to the salt air.
The Low Tide sat where the road forgot where it was going. No neon screaming for attention—just a hand-painted sign, salt-bleached and crooked, humming softly in the wind. The ocean could be heard before seeing it, that steady hush. Like the world is breathing out. Place that we ended up, not planned.
Inside, the floor still carried sand no one bothered to sweep. Surfboards were mounted along the walls like trophies from better days. The bar top was scarred with initials, old rings, half-kept promises. Somebody’s uncle was playing pool too seriously. Somebody’s aunt was singing along to a jukebox that had long since given up on being in tune.
This was more our speed.
Kiy slipped her sneakers off at the door without thinking, hooked her fingers through mine, and laughed when her dress brushed against my leg. The ring caught the low light and flashed once—quiet, but undeniable. A few people noticed. A couple nodded. No spectacle. Just recognition.
“This is it,” she said softly, looking around. “It just feels mellow.”
We grabbed a long table near the open windows. The breeze rolled in thick with salt and night-blooming flowers. Someone ordered rounds—cheap beer, mai tais that leaned more rum than juice, shots that burned honest.
Stembie was already crying again. Autumn had her arm slung around Zune, laughing like she’d just won something she wasn’t expecting to. Chris kept shaking his head, muttering, “Nah, nah, nah,” like he was still catching up to reality. Gabe raised his glass once, no speech, just a solid clink against mine.
“To staying,” he said.
I nodded. That was enough.
Kiy leaned into me, shoulder tucked under my chin, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the ring like she was memorizing it by touch. The music dropped into something slow and bluesy, the kind of song that feels like it’s been waiting for you.
“You okay?” I murmured.
She smiled without looking up. “I’ve never been better.”
| KiY
“Let’s be misfits,” Autumn declared, slamming her glass against the table before bolting for the bar.
When no one was looking, she vaulted the counter, trapped two bottles of wine between her arm and blouse, and flashed us a smoldering look that said y’all coming or what?
I laughed. Autumn had always been the party—especially when something deserved celebrating. And an engagement? That was her cue to go feral.
I glanced at Mic. He was already smiling.
We leapt from the table, the rest of the group scrambling behind us, running until the wind knocked the breath from our lungs—until our bodies reminded us we weren’t kids anymore.
A few steps from the waves, we built a bonfire. Huddled close. Sharing laughter, half-remembered horror stories, nonsense that made no sense but felt like everything.
And I thought—
isn’t this what love is supposed to feel like?
Weightless. Like running in cold air until your cheeks burn and your feet ache but you don’t stop. Unapologetically free. Invincible by nature. Bound by choice.
If I had to relive every decision that brought me here, I wouldn’t blink.
Because looking at him now—mist in his curls, joy written all over him, arms that always feel like home—I knew loving Micah had been the easiest thing I’d ever done. It was tranquil. To do absolutely anything, as long as it’s with him.
He caught me mid-laugh, spun me straight into the water, and we fell together—laughing, splashing, half-walking, half-surrendering to the tide.
Only hours earlier, he’d asked me to marry him. And I said yes to the tenth degree. I hadn’t thought about tradition or ceremony. I’d only thought about forever.
And I knew.
I really, really loved him.
And now—
the whole world was about to know it too.
“Okay, everyone gather around,” Stembie called, waving us closer to the tempo bonfire. “I wanna shout out my girl for restoring hope to the rest of us—and Micah for coming correct!” She snapped a few times before lifting the first bottle into the air.
I shook my head, laughing, as Micah pulled me into his lap, rocking us gently. “If I didn’t,” he said calmly, “I would’ve paid for it. And that price would’ve been heavy.”
“Gahhh, stop!” Stembie laughed, wiping under her eyes. “My makeup is already ruined.”
Gabe took her hand, patting it softly to ground himself, then stood—clearly determined to take the floor.
“I’ve known Micah for only a short while,” he began, swaying slightly as Stembie steadied him, already rolling her eyes. One hiccup. “We had this long conversation about Black marching bands and inventing asurd piano notes…” He paused, frowned, then shook his head. “Anyway—when that amazing song came along, I realized where you got your tune from.” He pointed at me. Another hiccup. “It’s because of that lovely woman beside you.”
We all leaned in.
“And I’ve witnessed the most profound change—inside and out. She turned your attention toward what really matters. And as long as you have that…” He lifted a finger like he was discovering truth in real time. “You’ll be alright. The—the both of you!”
We burst into laughter and applause as Gabe sat back down, immediately handed a bottle of water by Stembie. He accepted it with an apologetic shrug.
“I feel like,” Micah said, reaching for the bottle as it passed, fingers resting easy along the neck, “I should make the next toast.”
The group quieted.
“We’ve—”Micah stared at me, eyes resting with ease. A warmth fluttered. “We’ve learned so much from each other. Listened to our hearts putting down our fears…..”
“Kiyanna…she…became my haven through refuge.” He took a deep drink, and my eyes widened slightly at how much he swallowed before lifting the bottle again, playful, like a wand. “And I couldn't imagine any world she’s not apart of.”
My chest tightened. He starts again, arm coasting my shoulders like a wave. Gratitude pulled me tighter. “But I’m also grateful for all of you. For what we created when starting over felt impossible. We’re here. We’re existing. And that deserves more than a celebration.”
He raised the bottle higher. “To the squad.”
“To the squad!” everyone echoed.
“Guess it’s not all about your looks, huh?” Zune joked, pulling Micah into a hug. “We got you. Always, bro.”
They embraced, and suddenly the night felt softer—mist curling through the air, voices lowering, laughter turning intimate. I knew this was only the beginning.
More confessions would come.
More truth.
More love.
And for once, none of it felt heavy.