Page 112 - B. Ing_Antologi Cerpen Xl-6
P. 112
Vulnera Cor
One evening in Paris, under the towering Eiffel,
they sat on a park bench as the sky faded to gold. Arga
took a deep breath and stood before her.
“El,” he said, voice trembling.
Elora looked up. Arga knelt down and pulled out
a small box from his pocket.
Her eyes widened. “Arga… what are you doing?”
“I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment. And I
realized—this is it.” He opened the box, revealing a
sparkling diamond ring.
“Will you make me the happiest man alive… and
marry me?”
Time froze.
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