The rooftop garden had become their secret place—where Charlie could breathe and Peachy could dream.
It wasn't fancy. Just an old wooden bench, a couple of mismatched pillows, and the fading scent of sampaguita she once left in a jar. But here, Charlie had smiled for the first time in years. And here, he would do it again—only this time, for a reason far bigger than healing.
For love.
"You're quiet," Peachy said, handing him a paper cup of vending machine coffee.
He took it, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "I've been thinking."
"That's dangerous."
He smirked. "True. But this time, it's dangerous in a good way."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Peach," he said, voice careful, like he was balancing something fragile. "I know you didn't dream of marrying a broken heir. Or becoming some sort of 'Hotel Cinderella.' I know you just wanted peace. Maybe enough money to send your mom to her doctor, or help your sister with rent."
"Charlie..."
"Let me finish," he said gently. "I never wanted to drag you into my world. But you kept showing up anyway—with your pink notes and your terrible coffee and your stubborn hope."
She laughed softly. "It's not terrible. It's just brave."
He smiled. Then knelt.
Right there on that rooftop bench.
Peachy blinked. "Wait—what are you doing?"
Charlie held up a small, crooked velvet box. "Something reckless."
"Charlie—"
"Marry me, Peach."
Her heart stopped. The world spun. And somewhere below, the sound of city life continued—cars honking, elevator doors dinging—but none of it mattered.
"All this time, people chose you because they needed something—your time, your kindness, your sacrifices. But I'm choosing you because I want you. Not what you give. Not what you fix. Just you."
Her mouth opened. No words came.
He bit his lip. "Too much?"
She knelt down with him.
"I just..." she breathed, "I need to think. Just a little. Not because I doubt you. But because, for once, I want to say yes for me."
He nodded. No pressure in his eyes. Only hope.
That night, Peachy disappeared.
Not dramatically. Not forever. She just... went home.
And taped a note to his door.
Dear Charlie,
I used to think love was about saving someone. That being "the good girl" meant giving up my wants, my voice, even my dreams.
But then you gave me a rooftop.
You listened, even when I made no sense.
You never asked me to be smaller than I am.
That's new for me.
So here's my answer.
Yes.
This time, because I want to.22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ63DuzBYNgp
Not because I have to.
Love,22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK6JgUlWlqV
Peachy22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA6ERUwQWu8
(a little braver now)
P.S. Let's plan the wedding after my shift. I'm on mop duty 'til 5.
Charlie laughed when he read it. Then cried.
Then reread it.
Sticky notes, once silly scraps of coping... had become his most treasured letters.
And her "yes"? Not shouted from balconies or printed in gold foil.
Just inked in pink.22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWbQeIm9qJa
On paper yellow.22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQuTiJXJtcb
But realer than anything he'd ever known.
End of Chapter 20.
22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcfCk0Zuynt
