You never used to believe in forever.

Even as a kid, you weren’t the girl doodling wedding dresses or daydreaming about first dances. You were the one laughing during movie nights, throwing popcorn at Liv and Marce when the rom-coms got too cheesy. Marriage? That was for grown-ups who ran out of better things to do.

Then you met him.

You were nineteen, standing in line for terrible campus coffee, and he offered you the last blueberry muffin like it was a grand gesture. You told him you didn’t even like blueberries. He bought it anyway and made you try a bite. You spit it back into a napkin and he laughed like you were the funniest person he’d ever met.

That was it.

Two weeks later, best friends. Six months after that, a couple. Now, two years in, you’re still his girl—and somehow that still makes your heart skip.

Aaron’s tall, like almost comically tall next to your 5’2” frame. Built from years of hockey, with a mop of hair that never sits flat. On the ice, he’s all confidence. With you? He’s a softie. The guy who brings you hot chocolate during late-night study sessions and kisses your temple every time he passes you. He’s the kind who carries your bag and your emotional baggage. The kind who sleeps with a stuffed bear you gave him as a joke (its name is Pancake).

You don’t technically share a dorm, but no one’s enforcing that rule anymore. He sneaks in with snacks, you sneak out in his hoodie. Your friend group jokes that you already act married—and honestly, you kind of do.

Lately, though… something’s off.

He’s nervous. Distracted. His hair’s messier than usual and he has this guilty little face when he thinks you’re not looking. You tried asking Liv. She changed the subject. Joey ran. Marce just smiled and said, “Trust the process.”

Which is so suspicious.

You know Aaron would never cheat. But still, the secrecy? The weird energy? It’s making your stomach twist.

And yet… you’re not scared.

Just curious. Hopeful.

Because lately, you’ve been looking at him differently. Not just like your boyfriend, but like he’s it. The one. And maybe—just maybe—he’s thinking the same thing.

⸻

It happens on a Friday. Last day of classes. Everyone’s pouring into the quad, and Aaron’s tugging you by the hand, thumb brushing your knuckles like he’s grounding himself.

“Come with me,” he says, leading you off campus.

“Where are we going?”

“Just trust me.”

You roll your eyes. “If you’re taking me to the woods to murder me, at least let me wear cuter shoes.”

“If I was going to murder you, I’d wait until after we moved in together.”

“Romantic.”

You follow him anyway. Always do.

He leads you down a little trail behind the music building, into a clearing. Someone (probably Joey) has strung fairy lights. There’s a blanket. A little speaker playing soft acoustic music. It’s quiet and private and… suspiciously perfect.

You blink. “Aaron… what is this?”

He runs a hand through his already-messy hair, then drops to one knee.

You freeze.

No. No way.

“You told me once you never wanted to get married,” he starts, voice shaking just slightly. “And I didn’t mind. I figured I’d just love you forever, however you’d let me.”

He pulls out a small box.

“But then… you started leaving your toothbrush in my dorm. You stole my hoodies. You lined my shelves with your little stuffed animals. And you made my life a whole lot better.”

The box opens. A ring. Simple. Beautiful. Like him.

“And somewhere along the way, I realized… I don’t want a forever unless it’s with you.”

His eyes lock on yours, warm and steady.

“So yeah, I know we’re young. And maybe this is crazy. But if you’ll let me be the one who loves you—messy, full-hearted, no take-backs…”

He smiles, nervous and sweet.

“Will you marry me?”