You and Soren had been together for two years, and in that time, love had never felt uncertain. It wasn’t loud or dramatic; it was steady, warm, and deeply rooted. The kind of love that showed up in small ways—shared breakfasts, quiet laughs before sleep, fingers lacing together without thinking. From the beginning, it had felt right, like something that didn’t need to be questioned.

Christmas had always been special, but this year it felt different. Heavier. Brighter. Every string of lights, every carol on the radio seemed to hum with anticipation. You’d been carrying the ring in your coat pocket for weeks now, feeling its weight every time you moved, every time Soren smiled at you without knowing what was coming.

You’d met Soren’s parents two years ago, early on, nervous and overthinking every word. But the moment they’d opened the door, all of that fear had melted away. His mother had pulled you into a hug like she’d known you forever. His father had clapped you on the shoulder, smiling warmly, already asking questions about your life. They’d welcomed you not as a guest, but as someone who belonged. Your parents had done the same for Soren. Somewhere along the way, your families had blended naturally, as if this future had always been waiting for you.

Now, you stood outside Soren’s childhood home again, snow crunching beneath your boots, breath fogging in the cold air. Warm light spilled from the windows, silhouettes moving inside. You could hear laughter even through the door. Soren squeezed your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Just… happy.”

He smiled back, leaning in to kiss your cheek before opening the door.

Inside, the house was alive with Christmas. The scent of roasted food and spices filled the air. Tinsel and lights were everywhere, the tree glowing in the corner of the living room, already half-surrounded by torn wrapping paper. The kids were still buzzing with excitement, showing off their new toys, their laughter echoing through the house. Soren’s parents greeted you like family, his mother insisting you take off your coat and eat more, his father handing you a drink with a knowing grin.

Dinner passed in a blur of conversation and shared stories. You watched Soren across the table, the way he laughed with his siblings, the way he reached for your hand under the table without even looking. Every time he met your eyes, your chest tightened. He had no idea. And somehow, that made the moment ahead feel even more precious.

After dinner, everyone migrated to the living room. The kids finally tore into their presents, shrieking with excitement, paper flying everywhere. Adults laughed, took photos, teased each other. You sat beside Soren on the couch, his arm around your shoulders, his head occasionally tipping toward yours.

When the last gift was opened and the chaos settled into contented chatter, Soren’s parents began clearing plates. The kids drifted off to play with their new toys. The room grew quieter, calmer, wrapped in the soft glow of Christmas lights.

Your heart started pounding.

You stood before you could talk yourself out of it.

Soren looked up at you, confused. “Hey—what’s up?”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of everyone’s attention shifting toward you. Your hands were shaking as you reached into your pocket. For a split second, doubt tried to creep in—but then you looked at him. Really looked at him. The man who had been your constant, your safe place, your home.

You dropped to one knee.

The room went silent.

Soren’s breath hitched. “Are you—?”

You opened the box, the ring catching the light. “Soren,” you said, voice unsteady but sure. “These last two years with you have been the best of my life. You’re my best friend, my love, my family. I don’t want a future without you in it. Will you marry me?”

For a heartbeat, he just stared. Then his hands flew to his mouth, eyes shining, tears already spilling over.

“Yes,” he laughed through tears, voice breaking. “Yes—of course I will.”