Chapter Three - The Plan in Motion
The apartment had taken on a strange new feeling over the past few days.
Taiga would never admit it, but things were... cozier. Joe’s toothbrush sitting next to hers, his
stupidly folded laundry in the corner, the way he always managed to find the one dish she hadn’t
washed and clean it without saying a word. It was infuriating. And oddly comforting.
She found herself waiting for him to get back from errands, noticing how quiet the place felt
without his casual humming or sarcastic remarks. Not that she’d ever say that out loud.
Meanwhile, Joe had a goal — one that had been forming ever since their first accidental clash.
She was wild, unpredictable, and intense. But beneath her sharp tongue was someone worth
fighting for. Someone worth... proposing to.
That morning, Joe stood in front of a tailor’s shop, speaking to a man with a professional smile.
Joe: “Is my tuxedo and dress ready to pick up?”
Tailor: "Yes it's ready for you to pick up. However, we need final confirmation to make sure it's all
just right and in perfect condition for your special occasion."
The tailor then stepped back, allowing Joe to take a final look at the tuxedo, admiring its
stunning craftsmanship — smooth dark fabric, a slight shimmer under the light, and embroidery
details subtle enough to be personal.
Joe:”And the dress?”
The assistant gently lifted the dress from the mannequin, revealing a breathtaking vision in soft
ivory silk. The bodice was expertly tailored with delicate hand-sewn lace, forming an intricate
floral pattern that shimmered subtly under the light. The sweetheart neckline offered a perfect
balance of elegance and allure, while sheer illusion sleeves—dusted with tiny pearls—cascaded
down the arms like stardust.
A satin ribbon cinched the waist with graceful precision, flowing into a voluminous skirt crafted
from layers of ethereal tulle and organza. Each layer moved with weightless fluidity, like a
whisper of wind through cherry blossoms. Along the hem, a faint golden embroidery traced
blooming sakura petals—a subtle nod to tradition and the season of new beginnings.
At the back, the gown flowed into a modest chapel train, accented by a row of covered buttons
that traveled from the nape of the neck to the base of the spine, hinting at timeless refinement.
It was more than just a dress. It was a story—one of fierce love, quiet devotion, and the promise
of forever. And it was made for her.
After taking it all in, Joe nodded and stepped out, the garment bag containing Taiga’s dress
securely in hand. He glanced back at the shop, satisfied with the final purchase and the
impending completion of his plan.
With the engagement ring, the tux, and the dress sorted out, he was one step closer to
achieving his goal: proposing to Taiga with a grand gesture.
Back at the apartment, Taiga was sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels with her
usual half-bored, half-irritated look.
Taiga: “Where have you been all day? Don’t tell me you joined a country club. You smell like
cologne and rich people.”
Joe: “I was just running errands. Maybe I like to smell good.”
Taiga raised an eyebrow.
Taiga: “For who? Yourself?”
Joe walked past her with a teasing smile.
Joe: “Maybe I have a secret admirer.”
Taiga scoffed.
Taiga: “They better have bad taste.”
As he placed the packages quietly in the hall closet, she didn’t see the small smile he wore. Nor
the way his fingers lingered on the door, as if hiding something precious behind it.
After dinner — which Joe cooked (and which Taiga didn't verbally praise, but still devoured) —
she disappeared into the bathroom for her nightly soak.
Joe got to work. He placed a folded blanket on the couch with a small handwritten note on top:
“Come to the rooftop. Bring the blanket.”
By the time Taiga emerged in her pajamas, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel, she
immediately noticed the absence of Joe — and the strange atmosphere in the apartment.
Taiga: “...This weirdo better not be up to something stupid.”
She climbed the stairs slowly, blanket in hand, and opened the door to the rooftop.
And stopped in her tracks.
Lanterns swayed gently in the warm breeze. The skyline of the city stretched beyond them,
golden and humming with life. A small table sat in the center, topped with her favorite snacks.
Music played faintly from a speaker. And Joe — wearing a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up —
stood there waiting, visibly nervous.
Taiga: “What… is all this?”
Joe gave her a sheepish smile.
Joe: “Something I’ve been planning for a while.”
He walked over, took the blanket, and laid it out on the rooftop floor near the railing. Then he
gestured for her to sit.
She moved slowly, suspicious but curious. Her eyes never left him.
Joe: “You’re stubborn. You yell too much. You kick in your sleep and pretend you don’t. But…
you’re honest. Brave. And somehow, in all this chaos, you’ve become my favorite part of the
day.”
Taiga blinked, caught completely off guard by his sincerity.
Joe: “So I figured… if we’ve made it this far without killing each other, maybe we’re meant to go
a bit farther.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Joe: “Taiga Aisaka… will you marry me?”
She stared. Her eyes moved between the ring and his face. Then she pointed at him.
Taiga: “Are you seriously proposing to me… in pajamas?”
Joe: “It's our roof. Our pajamas. Seemed fitting.”
Taiga: “You’re unbelievable.”
Joe smiled softly.
Joe: “I get that a lot.”
Taiga stared at the ring again — the shape of the band curved like a tiger’s claw.
She looked at him, then away. Then back.
Taiga: “…Fine. Yes. But if you tell anyone I’ll throw you off this roof.”
Joe: “Wouldn’t dream of it, future Mrs. Palmtop Tiger.”
