It’s perfect. One rose petal has dropped onto the white linen. The candle burns a sunset flame of passion. When Paul glances at the bow-tied waiter, Miranda surreptitiously tugs her dress down and crosses her arms, for maximum effect. She waits for his gaze to return, and holds it, wide-eyed.
When he starts to speak, she reaches out her hand and swells with joy when instead of taking it Paul reaches into his jacket pocket. The velvet box sits in his palm.“I got the promotion. I’m going to Singapore,” he grins. Miranda stares at the pair of diamond cufflinks.