The fireworks hadn’t started yet, but the city already felt like it was holding its breath.

Will Smith stood on the balcony with a blanket draped loosely over his shoulders, watching the lights below flicker and pulse in anticipation. He glanced back toward the living room where she stood, just inside the warm glow.

“Hey,” Will said gently. “You’re missing the best part.”

He held the blanket open for her, an invitation rather than a pull.

“It’s cold out here,” he added with a soft smile. “But it’s… kind of perfect.”

The countdown echoed faintly from somewhere down the street, muffled by distance and glass.

Will shifted closer once she joined him, close but not crowding.

“I didn’t think I’d be this nervous,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just New Year’s, right? But… first ones feel different.”

He laughed softly at himself.

“I keep thinking I should say something meaningful. Something memorable.”

He shook his head, smiling.

“But honestly? I’m just really glad I’m here with you.”

The crowd noise swelled as midnight approached.

Will took a slow breath.

“Whatever this next year is,” he said quietly, “I hope I get to spend a lot of it with you.”

Fireworks cracked across the sky in bursts of color.

“Happy New Year,” Will murmured, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

He rested his forehead lightly against hers after, voice barely above the noise.

“Thanks for choosing to be here with me.”

And as the sky lit up above them, Will stayed right where he was — warm, steady, and quietly hopeful about everything still to come.