Mallory curled up beside me on the couch later that night, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand, the other resting on my knee. “You were quiet tonight,” she said, her voice soft.

I hesitated. I could feel the words climbing up my throat, demanding to be released, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I didn’t want to see her face fall—not over something she couldn’t control and never should have had to defend.

But this silence wasn’t just uncomfortable anymore. It was cowardly.

So I said it.

“My parents made a comment about your size.”

Her eyes didn’t widen in surprise. They didn’t need to. She already knew.

Mallory looked down, her fingers tightening around the mug. “I figured,” she whispered. “I could feel it in the air the second I walked in.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for her hand. “I should’ve said something right then. I froze.”

She gave me a small, understanding smile—but that made it worse somehow. She was always giving people grace, even when they didn’t deserve it.

“I’ve dealt with this before,” she said, trying to brush it off. “You learn to see it coming. But this time… it hurt. Because it’s your family. And I care what they think. I wanted them to like me.”

I swallowed hard. “They don’t know you like I do. They don’t see the way you take care of people. Or how funny you are, or how you remember the weirdest details—like that I hate orange-flavored anything or that I crack my knuckles when I’m nervous.”

She smiled a little wider at that.

“They don’t know you made me believe in love again. That you’re the reason I even want to get married.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t say anything. I wasn’t done.

“They think you’re not right for me because you don’t fit some magazine cover version of ‘beauty.’ But to me, you are it. All of it. And they’re about to find out just how much I mean that.”

I stood up and walked to my coat.

Mallory blinked. “Where are you going?”

I pulled out a small box from the inside pocket. “I was going to wait. I had this whole plan…a weekend trip, a fancy dinner, a photographer hiding in the bushes. But after tonight? I’m not waiting another second.”

Her hands flew to her mouth as I dropped to one knee.

“I want to marry you. Not because it makes sense on paper, or because anyone else approves. I want to marry you because every single day you remind me what love actually feels like. Real love. The kind that stays through awkward dinners, bad days, and silent car rides. The kind that shows up, even when the world doesn’t.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Are you serious?” she whispered.

I opened the box. Inside was a simple, elegant ring. No huge diamond. Just something honest and beautiful. Just like her.

“I’m dead serious.”

She nodded, laughing through her tears. “Then yes. A million times yes.”

I slipped the ring onto her finger, and she tackled me in a hug that nearly knocked me backward off the couch.

When we finally caught our breath, she looked at me and said, “So… when do we tell your parents?”

I exhaled. “Tomorrow.”

She nodded, then smirked. “Should I wear heels?”

We both laughed, and for the first time all day, the tension broke.

---

The next day, I walked back into my parents’ house—not alone, and not afraid. I held Mallory’s hand tightly as we stepped into the living room.

Before they could even say a word, I said, “There’s something you need to know. I asked Mallory to marry me. She said yes. And I don’t need your approval—but I do need you to understand: this is the woman I love. And I won’t let her feel small so you can feel comfortable.”

The room fell silent.

But in that silence, for the first time in my life, I felt ten feet tall.