Elegant.
She laughed loudly and without embarrassment.
Darius liked that.
Nia introduced them.
“This is my brother, Darius.”
Simone smiled.
“The guy with no life?”
Darius looked at Nia.
“You’ve been discussing me?”
“Constantly.”
Simone extended her hand.
“I’m Simone.”
Darius shook it.
“I apparently have no life.”
“So I heard.”
“I’m actually very interesting.”
“Prove it.”
They spent most of the evening talking.
Darius learned that Simone grew up in Richmond, Virginia.
She had moved to Charlotte after college.
She worked for a marketing agency but wanted to start consulting independently.
She had one older brother.
She hated pickles.
She loved horror movies despite being terrified by them.
She had been engaged once before.
That last detail came later.
Their first official date happened eleven days after the birthday dinner.
They went to a taco restaurant.
Their second date lasted nearly six hours.
Their third ended with Simone falling asleep on Darius’s couch during a movie she insisted she wanted to watch.
Within three months, they were serious.
Within a year, Simone had a drawer at his apartment.
By the second year, she had more things there than he did.
They moved into a townhouse together.
For Darius, trust came slowly.
His parents had stayed married, but the marriage was turbulent.
His father had carried on an affair for almost two years when Darius was sixteen.
Darius remembered the night his mother found out.
He remembered shouting.
A glass breaking in the kitchen.
His father sleeping in a hotel for months.
His mother crying behind a bedroom door.
Eventually, his parents reconciled.
But Darius never forgot how quickly a home could transform when one hidden truth surfaced.
He told Simone about that history early in their relationship.
“I have one thing I don’t think I can deal with,” he said.
They were lying on the living room floor eating Chinese food.
Simone looked at him.
“What?”
“Cheating.”
She became serious.
“Okay.”
“I can deal with arguments. Bad periods. Needing space. Whatever.”
He shrugged.
“But if you want somebody else, tell me.”
Simone stared at him.
“You think I’m going to cheat?”
“No.”
“Then why are you saying this?”
“Because people become unhappy.”
Darius looked at the ceiling.
“Things change.”
Simone put down her fork.
“If I’m unhappy, I’ll tell you.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“And if you’re unhappy?”
“I tell you.”
She held out her pinky finger.
Darius laughed.
“What are you, twelve?”
“Promise.”
He linked his finger with hers.
“Promise.”
For years, Simone seemed to honor that.
They fought sometimes.
Once about money.
Once about Simone’s mother staying with them for six weeks.
Repeatedly about Darius working too much.
But they talked.
Eventually.
When Simone quit her agency job and started independent consulting, Darius covered most household expenses for four months while she built clients.
When Darius’s grandfather died, Simone handled everything he could not.
She brought food to his mother.
Answered family phone calls.
Ironed the suit Darius wore to the funeral.
She stood beside him without trying to fix grief.
That mattered.
By year four, everyone assumed marriage was coming.
Darius assumed it too.
He proposed during a weekend trip to Charleston.
Nothing elaborate.
No hired photographer.
No restaurant full of strangers.
They walked along the waterfront after dinner.
Darius stopped beneath an old oak tree and took the ring from his jacket.
Simone cried before he finished the question.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“I know what you’re asking.”
“What if I was asking you to hold something?”
She laughed through tears.
“Give me the ring.”