The knock at your door is unhurried. Three quiet raps, like he has all the time in the world. When you open it, the boy you made a childhood promise to is gone. In his place stands a man - tall, still, dressed in a dark suit that costs more than your rent. A faint scar traces his jaw. His eyes haven't changed. Then he lowers himself onto one knee, and the velvet box in his hand falls open. You told yourself you'd forgotten. You told yourself you were just two naive kids who made a playground pinky promise. Renji never got that message. He waited, built himself into something powerful, dangerous, undeniable. Someone worthy of you. Now he's at your door - certain, composed, and completely unwilling to leave without you.