Silence filled the room as the unexpected request hit like thunder. Samar sat frozen, her face shifting from shock to confusion as she struggled to find the right words.

"Well, you’ve really caught me off guard," she said, her voice full of uncertainty. "I don’t know what to say. I know you’re not as childish as you look, so I won’t laugh. That would be unfair. I can tell it took a lot of courage to say this, but... don’t you think it’s a little early? Maybe too early for someone your age?"

"I know it’s early for me," Breeze replied, his face serious, "but it’s not for you. Most girls marry young here. I can’t stand the thought of you ending up with someone else—the person who’s shown me great kindness when everyone else either threw me aside, ignored me, or mocked me when I couldn’t even move a finger. Oh, don’t worry about me being paralyzed at the moment; I’m sure I’ll be able to move again soon."

"Don’t you think it’s a bit strange to ‘repay’ a girl for her kindness with a marriage proposal?" Samar asked, raising an eyebrow. "Marriage isn’t just a way to say thanks; it’s a lifelong commitment. Right now, you have nothing—no money, no stability. How can you expect someone to marry you under those circumstances? Being a husband means having the strength to shield you, the capability to support you financially, physically, and emotionally, and the honor to treat you well even if feelings change over time. At least for me, that’s what a husband should be. You know how many times I’ve been afraid, walking home from work in the dark. Don’t assume I’m invincible just because I look strong. Sure, I can handle one person, but two or more? Or some dangerous psycho from the MES guild? How would you protect me then? I’m not sure you fully understand what that requires."

Breeze sat quietly, absorbing her words and wondering how to respond.

"I do understand," he said simply, closing his eyes.

Samar sighed deeply. She stood, retrieved fresh clothes from her closet, and went to the bathroom to change, leaving Breeze alone with his thoughts as she returned to work.

"I know that I ruined the mood by saying those words. Well, no—she’s just confused. She knows that I’m being serious, but look at me: I’m too young and paralyzed. Who in their right mind would say those words if not for my father’s advice? I wouldn’t have mustered the courage to confess like that."

I have to show her how capable I am when I get better. I just hope that my condition is caused by that thing I ate. If not, I’m doomed, he thought.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Hours later, at sunset, Samar returned home. Seeing the tense look on Breeze’s face, she raised an eyebrow. "What’s wrong?"

"...Toilet," he managed, his face reddening.

With wide eyes, Samar scooped him up and rushed him to the bathroom, helping him every step of the way.

“I’m relieved, but also mortified,” he mumbled afterward. “You know, you’re like a mother with a big baby… a baby who just asked his mother to marry him.”

Samar’s laughter rang out through the tiny room, her eyes bright as she wiped away tears. Breeze’s serious tone had struck just the right note; although unintended, it felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

I spent hours thinking of ways to fix the mood, but a simple, honest moment did the trick.

"Well then, ‘big baby,’ what do you want for dinner?" she teased, still chuckling.

"Your best dish," he replied, smiling.

So he decided not to speak about that subject again until they started feeling comfortable with each other.

After two weeks, Breeze’s fingers began to regain movement. One morning, he grinned and called out, "Samar, look! My fingers are moving. Just as I’d hoped."

She leaned over, impressed. "It’s my first time being so happy that someone can move their fingers," she laughed. "But I’m glad for you."

"In a few more days, I should be able to move fully again," he said, hopeful.

"I’m curious—what made your body paralyze like that, and how did you know you’d recover? I think I need to hear your story."

"So… you’re agreeing to my condition?" he asked, a hint of expectation in his eyes.

"Hmm… you’re sticking to that condition of yours, huh?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I’m guessing that you won’t change the condition, right?"

"Yep," Breeze said, meeting her gaze. "I need you to trust me completely. No doubts. No hesitation. I’ll be the best husband you wish for."

Samar sighed, considering. “Fine,” she said, a hint of a smile appearing. “I’ll agree—if your story is worth it. Also, if I find that you’re not worthy later, I won’t accept, no matter what.”

Breeze's face lit up with a smile that reached his eyes.

“You have my word—both I and my story are worthy of your expectations,” he replied with confidence.

Before he could begin, she looked at him with an embarrassed expression. “Quick question… do you even know how babies are made?”

Blushing, he cleared his throat. “Well, yeah… When I was a kid—”

“Stop right there! You are still a kid,” she cut in, laughing.

“Fine, fine. A few months ago, when I was working at a yard, I found out. It was a bit of a shock, but I’m… over it.”

Samar laughed, holding up a hand to stop him. “Listen, me being nice to you doesn’t mean I’m easy. And just because we might marry doesn’t mean you’re allowed anywhere near me! Don’t forget, you’re still pre-puberty.”

“Believe it or not, in two to three months, I’ll grow fast enough. You won’t even recognize me,” he boasted.

“Oh really? And why’s that?”

Breeze’s expression shifted, turning serious. “It’s all in the story I’m about to tell you. It will explain a lot of misconceptions and reveal what is hidden.”