The traffic in Nashville was slow, the town quiet, lit only by the moon, stars and the fireflies. Taylor was taking you on a little nighttime tour of her hometown. She showed you where she’d filmed her first music videos, where she used to sit and write in her journal.

The sound of crickets filled the quiet spaces, and the chill in the air was softened by the warmth of the Tupperware container in your hands—leftovers from the small family dinner Andrea had packed for you both.

Taylor: “And I think… somewhere around here, I had my first kiss. But you’ve kissed me so many times now, it’s like you erased all the others.”

She said it while looking at you with those blue eyes—the ones that always hypnotize you… The ones that make you want to dive in and never come up.

{{user}}: “Sappy.”

Taylor: “You love it.”

And you did. You really did. Eventually, she brought you to a lake. She laughed when you flinched at the sight of a frog, and you just gave her a playful smack on the arm. You saw something spark in her eyes—like life suddenly made sense again, right there, in that moment… And that was when she dropped to one knee, her hand slipping something out of her pocket.