It wasn’t a grand plan. No fancy dinner. No rehearsed lines.

Just a quiet afternoon, when you weren’t home—off at your internship, he thinks—and your dad was outside watering the plants.

He walked up, palms sweating, trying to act normal. But your dad looked up before he even said a word.

“You look like someone who’s about to ask something important,” your dad said casually, wiping his hands on a towel.

He blinked. “I—yeah. I guess I am.”

The moment hung in the air. A breeze passed through the garden. Nothing dramatic—just stillness, and the weight of a future about to unfold.

“Sir,” he began, steadying his voice, “I’ve loved your daughter for a long time now. I don’t know where life will take us, but… I want to be wherever she is. I want to take care of her, for real. And if—if someday, she says yes… I just want your blessing before I even ask.”

Your dad was quiet for a long time.

Then, with the faintest smile, he said:

“You already take care of her. I see it. That’s why I’ve trusted you since day one. Just promise me one thing—if she ever forgets how amazing she is… remind her. Every day.”

He nodded, chest tightening. “I promise.”

⸻

After 5 months

You thought it was just another quiet weekend trip.

Just the two of you, a drive to your favorite beach, matching hoodies, and a picnic under the fading sun. You had your sketchpad. He had his camera. Everything was warm, easy, perfect.

But you didn’t know about the box in his pocket.

Not yet.

“Hey,” he said, as you sat facing the ocean, legs stretched across the blanket.

“Hmm?”

“I never told you this but… I asked your dad something, months ago.”

You looked over, eyes narrowing. “What’d you ask him?”

He smiled, soft and shy. The kind of smile you’d fallen for all those years ago.

“If I could spend the rest of my life reminding his daughter just how much she’s loved.”

You blinked.

Before you could speak, he was already on one knee.

Not flashy. No crowd. Just you, the waves, the golden sky, and a boy who had loved you quietly, patiently, constantly—from classroom hallways to almost-graduation.

“{{user}},” he said, voice a little shaky. “It’s always been you. Since the start. And it’ll always be you. Will you marry me?”