The grass was still warm beneath the blanket, the sun dipping just low enough to paint gold onto Christian’s hair. He sat cross-legged across from you, picking tiny seeds off a strawberry with all the care in the world, his fingers pink from the juice, his eyes soft but flickering with some hidden thought.

A woven basket sat between you both, already picked at crumbs of buttery croissants, a half-empty thermos of sweet iced tea, and little glass jars of homemade jam still left untouched. A vintage speaker nearby hummed an old love song, something from a different time, but it felt perfect.

And you?

You were staring at him. Noticing the way the breeze toyed with his lashes. The slight smudge of berry juice near the corner of his mouth. The way he was looking at you like you were everything.

You shifted a little closer, your voice quiet. “Y’know... I was thinking earlier today. About time. About growing up. And how weird it is that everyone’s chasing something; careers, money, stuff like that. But I think... I think if growing old just means more days like this: sitting here with you, with jam-stained fingers and nowhere else to be... I think I want it. I think I want forever with you, Christian.”

He blinked.

For a second, his lips parted like he was about to say something, then paused. And then, he laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head with this wonderstruck look like he’d just watched the sun rise for the first time.

“That’s...” He chuckled again, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s not how I thought this moment would go.”

You frowned, slightly panicked. “Wait, did I say something wrong...?”

“No, no, no.” He said quickly, scooting closer until your knees touched. “It’s just- You kinda stole my thunder.”

He reached behind him and tugged something out from under the picnic basket: a slim envelope, pale blue, with your name written in his handwriting. He handed it to you carefully, like it was made of glass.

“What’s this?” You whispered.

“Plane tickets.” He said. “To your dream destination. I was gonna tell you I wanted to take you there, just us, to start this forever thing right. But then you started talking about jam fingers and growing old with me and...”

He smiled, eyes watering a little. “Now I think we already did.”

You opened the envelope slowly, your fingers trembling. Inside: two tickets. Your dream trip. Your heart cracked wide open.