Alex is biting his lip, a nervous habit of his. I nudge his shoulder. "What's wrong?" I ask curiously. We are walking together in the woods, holding hands freely. This is something new to us. Ever since the Resistance has taken back over and love has been officially made legal again, couples can be seen kissing and holding hands everywhere, almost feverishly, as if they are afraid to lose the privilege again. I guess in a way, we all are.

The DFA still has its faithful supporters, after all. And even though it's been a full six years, we all know they could attempt to brain wash us all again. The Cured could take sides with them. Not everyone is as accepting of love as we'd like. Sure, Portland has a lot of supporters, and most are glad they can love again, that they can feel again, but we could lose that in all in a second. If there's one thing I've learned, a life can change in a matter of minutes. Raven drove that point home for Tack only a few years ago. My mom proved it to me when I was young.

The walls have been broken down. Love is a tedious thing, hard to understand and difficult to put into words, but it's a good thing. At least that's what we try to believe, and if it isn't then at least we were free to choose it now. But love is wondrous to feel is publicly, to share kisses and hands and glances and limbs, to curl up inside one another and not have to worry about being broken down for it.

Alex glances down at me, kisses my nose. He's trying to stall, and I can tell. "What's wrong?" I stop walking and stand there with my hands on my hips, showing him I want him to tell me what's on his mind. He lets out a half disgruntled sigh, half laugh. "God, you're stubborn." He mumbles, bringing a small smile to my face.

"That doesn't answer my question," I point out with a mischievous glint in my eye. He does laugh this time. He takes a seat, right here on the dirt in the park. He looks perfectly imperfect today, his auburn hair messy and his clothes wrinkled. He pats the spot beside him and I sit too.

He takes a breath and finally asks, "Lena, do you still think about Julian?" So there it is. Out in the open. Ever since I chose Alex years ago, Julian hasn't talked to us. He's left, and I've heard he's with Coral now. I hope she's good to him. I hope he's happy.

I can't lie. I do think about him. I wonder if he ever forgave me, if the tears I last saw falling down to his lips have been replaced with a smile. I wonder if he's in love with Coral. I hope he is. "Yeah, I do." I whisper, barely audible.

Alex sighs and nods. He looks a little saddened by the fact, but glad I didn't sugar coat, glad I told the truth. "Do you miss him?" The question tumbles out of his lips. The next one is even faster. "Do you still love him?"

I bite my lip, deciding to choose my wording carefully. We never talk about Julian, but when we do it's only little tid-bits. This is the first full blown conversation about him we've had in years. I reach over and gently take his hand, let him know I'm here. "I have love for him, but I'm not in love with him anymore." I say softly. My finger starts to trace his thumb. "I don't think of him when I close my eyes. I don't want to lean into him and smell him. I don't listen to his heart beat before I sleep."

I lean in closer, rest my head on his chest to prove my point. He puts me in his arms and I can feel him smile into my hair. "I love you, Alex. I'm in love with you. And I'll love you until the stars fall and Portland burns and we all turn to dirt and all the bombs in the world start to tick. I'll love you forever." I whisper, glancing up at him. His reaction is a broad smile, one that melts my heart.

And all this is true. I once loved Julian, yes. But it was never like this, never the way I love Alex. It was never feverish and difficult and hot and cold all at once. It was never fire and rain, never brought happy tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. That's why I chose Alex. He's mine, and I am his. Forever. He leans down and gently brushes his lips over my cheek. "I love you too, Lena. I want to wake up to your face every morning, and fall asleep to your breath. I want to keep you here, with me forever." Now I'm smiling like an idiot. His lips brush further up my cheek. "But I want to make sure you're with me, that I'm yours and your mine."

I turn a little to get a better look at him. "You have me. I chose you. We chose each other. I won't ever leave you," I reply earnestly. "I promise." I whisper. His lips find mine and he kisses me gently, the kind of kiss that leaves me craving more. But he doesn't build it up like always. He moves his lips away, leaving me pouting. He chuckles at the obviously annoyed look on my face and kisses back across my cheek to my ear.

"Then I need to ask you something." He whispers in my ear.

"Anything," I'm whispering before I can stop myself. His breath is hot against my skin, and I'm craving more of him. I want him to kiss me again, a real kiss. I want him to scoop me up into his arms and take me to our trailer in what used to be the Wilds, the trailer he read me poetry in, the one we now call home. I want him to tell me how much he loves me and how beautiful I am.

I am anticipating whatever question he has for me, wondering what it is. Then, to my utter shock, I see him reaching into his pants pocket. He looks nervous, but undeniably excited, like a kid stealing candy. He has a small box in his hand, and he kisses just below my ear. Then his lips move up and brush against my ear before he whispers, "Will you marry me?"

My eyes widen and my heart beat quickens. I want to scream my yes, to hug and jump on him like in the movies. But I am tongue tied. I chew on the inside of my cheek. How can he be so perfect? How did he pick the right time? He's looking at me now with a mixture of wariness and fear. He's scared I'll say no. The thought almost makes me laugh.

I pull him closer, tilt his face towards mine, and kiss him. He's surprised but instantly kisses me back. His arms are around my waist and my hands are in his hair. "Yes," I whisper against his lips.

He smiles and pulls away a little, awe on his face. He's looking at me like I'm a goddess and he's not worthy of me. "Yes?" He repeats in a question. I giggle. I feel light as air and giddy. "Yes," I repeat and pull him back to me, kissing him again. "Yes." I say one more time.

Now he's grinning and I'm grinning. Then we both start laughing, because it feels so good to be able to do this. We can get married. We can profess our love to each other. We can be together forever, no problem. He picks me up and hugs me tightly. I hug him back, holding onto him as though he'll fade into air, as if this is all a dream. He slowly puts me down to the ground again and slips the ring onto my finger. "Yes," He repeats to me and I smile even wider, if possible.

He kisses my hand and then he kisses my lips again. He grabs my hand, my ring glinting in the sun light. "I love you." He says.

Love: the once forbidden word. The breakable thing; the forever that stays on your lips and fills your soul. The one thing powerful enough to spark a rebellion, to fuel a fire. The one thing worth dying for. Love.

I love Alex Sheathes, and he loves me. "I love you too." I whisper, and I kiss his cheek. And then we walk off, off into our new life, off into our trailer, off to tell Tack and Grace and Hana and whoever else will listen that we're forever.