The morning after the proposal, the world felt softer, brighter, as if it had changed overnight just for us. I woke with the ring on my finger, its gentle sparkle catching the early sunlight, and I couldn't stop smiling. Every glance at him made my heart flutter, every touch reminded me that this—this perfect love—was real.
We decided to return to our field, the one that had seen our laughter, our whispered promises, and now the beginning of forever. As we walked along the familiar path, hand in hand, the flowers seemed to lean toward us, nodding in quiet celebration. The wind carried the scent of daisies and wildflowers, and a few butterflies danced around us as if they, too, understood the joy we felt.
He stopped in the middle of the field and pulled me close, his hands resting on my waist, eyes locked on mine. "I keep thinking about that moment yesterday," he murmured, voice soft but full of warmth. "When I asked you to be mine… I didn't just mean forever in the big, abstract sense. I meant every ordinary day, every sunset, every silly little thing. I want all of it with you."
I laughed, leaning into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. "I want that too," I whispered. "Even the silly little things." He smiled and, without warning, spun me around in a gentle twirl, making the daisies blur around us. My laughter filled the field again, mingling with the soft hum of the wind.
Then he stopped, pulling me close once more, and slowly, carefully, he began to dance with me—right there among the flowers. There was no music except the whisper of the breeze, the distant call of birds, and the gentle rustling of petals. Yet, somehow, it was perfect. Every step, every turn, every laugh felt like a melody written just for us. I rested my head against his shoulder, arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around me.
"Promise me something," he said suddenly, voice low and tender, making me look up at him. "Promise me that no matter where life takes us, no matter what storms we face, we'll always come back here. To this field, to this moment, to us."
"I promise," I said, tears pricking my eyes as I smiled. "Always."
He pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes shimmering, and whispered, "Then I think we should make a tradition—every year, same day, same field, same dance." I nodded, my heart swelling with happiness. "It's a deal."
We spent the rest of the afternoon lying in the grass, talking about our dreams, laughing at our shared memories, and planning our future together. The field became more than just our favorite place—it became a symbol of us, of love that was gentle, steadfast, and full of joy. The sun dipped lower, painting everything in gold, and as we watched it disappear behind the horizon, I realized something wonderful: some moments weren't just meant to last forever—they were meant to be cherished, repeated, and held close to your heart forever.
That evening, as we walked back hand in hand, the world seemed brighter than ever. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that our love story had only just begun.