Then

When I step out of the helicopter, the loose curls framing my updo whip into my face. I try to tuck the strands behind my ears, but the exercise is pointless.

I'm on a lush hilltop in Jamaica's Blue Mountains, the cloudless sky spread like a flag above. My eyes find Josh right away. The path toward him is lined with flowers, ending in a circular area like a stage. He stands in the middle, in a light gray suit with a pink flower in his jacket pocket, legs planted, hands clasped. To his left, a white table holds a single red rose.

I adjust my skirt and remember the producer's instructions. Walk slowly, face forward. We want a lot of eye contact.

It's not hard to keep my eyes on Josh as I advance, trying to tether myself to the unguarded admiration in his eyes. It's harder today to ignore the cameras, which wait in silent expectancy to film my reaction and record forever if I become a wreck or hold it together; if I stay gentle or get angry; if I'm going to become someone viewers admire or despise.

At least I look beautiful. My dress, skintight to the hips and flowing out at the bottom, is a lovely blush color, with swirls of sparkles and sequins crossing the bodice and hips. My hair is gathered into a loose knot with a diamond pin, spilling into sleek curls at the sides. Or at least, they were sleek before the mountain wind tore into me.

Pacing myself, I keep my chin high and my expression smiling. I know there are drones filming from above. It probably looks grand—dramatic—epic, even, with my hair flying and my skirt billowing. But I feel incredibly small, incredibly fragile.

I've been thinking about my reaction, and what to say if he turns me down. That's what I obsessed about last night as I tossed and turned, and this morning as they filmed me getting ready and casting longing glances at the horizon. I'll probably cry, that's unavoidable, but I want to say something lovely. Something Josh will remember as the years go by, so that even though he couldn't love me enough, at least he might think from time to time, Julia—what a class act.

Finally, I'm in front of Josh. I take a deep breath and release a nervous giggle. I'm not sure what to do with my hands.

"You look incredible," he says.

"Thanks. So do you." My heart feels like it's burning itself up. If he rejects me, I think I might actually die.

"Julia," he says firmly, like he's gearing up for a big, long speech. He reaches forward, and I place my hands in his, relieved that I have somewhere to put them. "You impressed me from the first night with your beauty, but more importantly, with your kindness. I've never heard you say a bad word about anyone. That's something I'm looking for in a wife."

I smile and mouth, Thank you. He smiles back.

"I've also had to do some soul-searching. You're a Synth, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that's been a concern for me."

I nod, encouraging him forward. I just want to get to the part where he tells me yes or no.

"I was afraid that our differences might be too much. That people might not accept us as a couple. I never doubted I could fall in love with you, but I held back out of fear that we'd have too many struggles ahead." He looks down, then up. He's smiling. "Then I saw how the girls took to you. How you made friends so easily, even with Cam—and let's be honest, if you can crack Cam, you can probably crack anyone."

I laugh.

"At every turn, I got the reassurance I needed. That you and I not only have amazing chemistry and a solid friendship, but a path forward, because we're more the same than we are different. We have the same goals. We want to start a family and live a simple life doing all the ordinary things that are more meaningful when we do them together. I realized that what matters isn't that my life started in a different way than yours, but that we're headed in the same direction. Julia—" He takes a huge breath through his nose. "I love you."

Then, releasing my hands, he reaches for the rose on the white table. Is this—is he—

Josh lowers himself to one knee, the rose held up like an offering. Tears sprout from my eyes, streak down my cheeks. My chest is so tight and so full at the same time.

"Will you accept this final rose?"

I nod and take the flower while Josh reaches for something in his pocket: a little black velvet box. He pries it open. Inside is a gigantic, flashing princess-cut diamond.

"Julia Walden, will you make me the happiest man on earth?" He squints like he's trying to hold back tears. "Will you marry me?"

There is no soundtrack to real life, but it doesn't matter. Triumphant orchestral music might as well be bursting in the air around us. I nod, because it's hard to speak, and stretch out my left hand. He works the ring over my knuckle. And while the ring in some ways feels like the inevitable seal of my purpose, I also remember what Cam said. There's power in no.

For a single sliver of a millisecond, I try to remind myself that I have a choice to walk away and see what life there might be in this bigger world outside of the prompts and the sets, to discover what choices I don't even know I have, to put to the test my hard-won conclusions about choice shaping reality and see if I can create a purpose outside of my given programming, and yet...

It's so easy to speak the single word I've been waiting my whole life to say.

"Yes."