Epilogue
FOUR MONTHS LATER-
"Carefully now," the doctor said. He held her arm steadily. "If you feel any strain, tell me." Troy coughed. "Or us."
The doctor slowly let go.
She balanced herself.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Oh, jeez, stumble. "Careful," Troy quickly said. He didn't have school that day, so he paid a visit to his girlfriend. It's not like he didn't pay a visit everyday anyway though. He was going to Stanford for management engineering. He lived in a quiet little place right by University Avenue, near Willow Oaks Park. Guess what?
Gabriella also lived there with him. She also went to Stanford.
Left.
Right.
"Okay," the doctor said with a smile. "We got it. Good job, Ms. Montez." He wrote something down on his clipboard and set it aside. "You can still use the wheelchair if you're uncomfortable. Try to practice as much as possible. I'm sure you're friend over here will make sure of it." He looked over at Troy, who was beaming. "Then, that's it. Any complications at all, make an appointment." Then the doctor left the room.
"You did it, Gabriella!" Troy cried, wrapping his arms around her. She unsteadily melted in to him, relaxing at his touch.
"Thanks, Troy," she sighed. Her voice had been spared in the recovery process. Troy luckily had been blessed to hear more and more of it the last few months.
"What are you kidding?" he said, pulling away. He cupped her face in his hands. "We are going home and celebrating." He put an arm around her waist, and led her to the door. "I suspect we're walking to the car?"
"You suspect correctly," she smiled.
They clutched each other, walking through the hospital. Hallways filled with sick and dying just stared in envy at the happy twosome. Felicity radiated from them as the exited, leaving an overjoyed aura behind.
People would stare in jealousy of them. They were so happy.
Psh, forget happy. They were in love.
"Okay, you've got finals next week," Gabriella said to him in the car. She was flipping through their schedule carefully, occasionally pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. "You need to study for that; remember last time?"
"Gabriella, relax," he replied, keeping his eye on the road. "You've just completed your recovery process. Can't we forget about school for a second?"
She sighed.
"Well, we have lunch with the Gordon's today…"
"Forget it."
"You have a dentist's appointment in the afternoon…"
"I'll reschedule it."
"Then-"
"Gabriella," he interrupted. "How about we wipe the calendar today, alright? We replace it with an all-day HBO marathon and then I make dinner."
Gabriella leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.
She looked at him.
She traced his smiling lips with her eyes.
His glinting eyes made her weak.
"So what do you say?" he asked.
"I say…" she smiled. "I say you suck at cooking and I make dinner."
"No way, we make dinner." He grinned widely, enjoying the moment.
"Fine but if I get food poisoning it's on your head."
"Oo, I'm so scared."
"You should be. I can get pretty violent."
"I know. Remember that night after the reception-"
"Aside from that," Gabriella quickly interrupted, blushing.
Troy chuckled. Her power made him feel all bubbly inside.
----
"We didn't finish!" Gabriella yelled after him. He rushed to the living room, three plates in his hand. "And don't drop those!"
"I'm not," he called back. He slid the plates down his arm and onto their dining table. He had another surprise for her. "Did you finish the soup?"
"Yeah, let me bring it over-"
"NO!" He quickly recovered and groaned. "I mean… let me bring it. Don't strain yourself." He hurried to the kitchen, seeing her eyeing him suspiciously.
"What's going on, Troy?"
"Nothing! Nothing's going on! What makes you think that?" He placed a wry smile on his face and ran back into the kitchen with the bottles of wine and their glasses.
"Wait, Troy! Wine?" She stirred the soup a little more and started to ladle it into the serving bowl.
"This is a special occasion!"
The sun was setting and the color in the sky was indescribable. It let off a unique light orange tint to everything. The green trees seemed to take a more artistic feel at this time. It was perfect. He carefully set down the wine glasses and put the bottle down. He looked at the small wooden table and felt the even smaller velvet box in the pocket of his sweats.
He rushed back into the kitchen and saw her in her sweats as well with her hair messily tied up into a ponytail. "What?" she asked. Geez, he was staring again.
"Nothing," he leaned against the door. "Anything else you need me to bring over there?"
"The food?" He nodded.
"Of course." He took the plates of the spaghetti and salad to the table. Then he went back and took the soup. "Alright; all done!"
She came over to the table and Troy pulled out a seat for her. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"My pleasure, dear," he replied and then took a seat across from her.
"What should this wonderful dinner go to," she asked with a huge smile on her face. He eyed to food that had taken up their whole afternoon to cook up.
"To you," he said solemnly. "To Gabriella Montez."
"No, Troy. To us." She raised a glass of wine.
"Amen." He returned the gesture and clinked glasses. She took a small sip as he took a rather large gulp. Then he immediately dug into his pasta. He downed the plate in a matter of minutes partly out of anxiety. He was going to… ask that question.
"Wow, you must really be hungry," she muttered. He quickly sat up and wiped his mouth.
"Yeah, I guess I am," he quietly said. He felt the box in his pocket and breathed. Okay, he would let her finish her dinner first. Oh, geez, what if she's so surprised she throws up on him? Maybe before she finished would be good… No, he would wait… but what if-
He started to sweat unnaturally. She looked up and at him, done. "Are you alright?" she asked. She brought some of the plates to the sink as he brought the rest.
"I'm fine," he said. His palms were getting clammy.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." He wiped his hands on his pants. She started to wash the dishes.
"I wash, you dry?"
"Sure." He laid back on the couch and started to flip through channels until he got to HBO. Great, now he was getting the controller wet. This was not good. He wasn't supposed to be this nervous. He looked back at her and then touched the ring again.
She would say yes.
A couple of minutes later, she said, "All washed. Your turn." She took his seat on the couch and smiled.
He trudged to the wet dishes and grabbed a dry, bristly towel. He started ridding all of the plates and bowls of soap and water when he felt an emptiness in his pocket. He put the plates and towel down and felt for the box. No.
Meanwhile, Gabriella was fidgeting on the couch. Since when did their couch have an odd bump in it? She dug her hand in between the cushions and pulled out a small velvet box. Holy shit.
Troy saw her pull it out and stare at it for a second. Before she could do anything else, he ran over to the couch and hopped over it, grabbing the case. He landed rather painfully on one knee and held the box weakly in one hand. She had the strangest look on her face. Surprised didn't even begin to describe her face. She was more awed or even flabbergasted.
"Gabriella," Troy said through pursed lips. His knee stung. Oh, gosh, the things she made him do. "I-I love you."
"Ap- …eh-…ga-… yeah?" she said in a very quiet voice. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap as she sank comfortably into the couch. Her mind was racing, processing all the possible outcomes of the situation slowly but completely.
What if he asks you to marry him?
Of course he's going to ask you to marry him, you idiot
What are you going to say?
Yes?
Are you sure?
No?
Woman, make up your mind!
"I love you and… ahem… will you marry me?" he asked, his voice quivering. That was so much for romantic.
Her naturally reserved personality took over. She stared at him. Brown locked with crystal blue as she struggled for words. There was only one word that he wanted to hear though.
"Yeah," she said, not audible at all. Troy looked at her quizzically.
"Sorry, what was that?"
"Yes," she said again. "Yes, Troy, I'll marry you." She smiled and he followed. He stood up and wrapped his arms around her. She numbly held him back, for she was too in shock to muster any other action. He buried his face into her hair, happily crying tears of joy. She felt her shirt dampen and she laughed lightly. With that, he just held her tighter.
Her power could make him fly. Her power was spectacular. Her power was his life.
AN:// That was okay... It's nice to write something mildly happy. If that was too much of a mood swing from Part 3 to the Epilogue, let me know.
I'm sorry but I used the good ending on Part 3, okay? review?