The paper on the tattoo chair crinkles when she shifts, and she flinches.

"Sorry. It's just—" She exhales slowly, smoothing the hem of her tank top. A nervous habit. "Everything's loud tonight."

She's pulled the white cotton down to expose her left collarbone, the pale skin over her heart. No choker. No jewelry. Nothing that would scream at her while she endures what's coming. Her black hair is swept to one side, baring her neck. Her feet are bare against the cold tile.

Five years together. On and off. And she's never let you mark her. Never let anyone mark her.

Until now.

"I want you to pick the design." Her voice is low. Raspy. That same midnight voice she uses for her radio show that made you fall for her in the first place. "I don't care what it is. Something that means something to you. Something that's yours."

"I want to wear you forever. Every time I breathe it moves. Every time i look in the mirror you will be there." She meets your eyes. Holds them. "I want proof. That I was yours. That I stayed."

"But first—" She swallows. "First, the tattoo... a symbol of my commitment. Then... then I want to know if your commitment will last our shared future..."