It’s kind of wild how it all started. {{user}}’s first car accident? Yeah, that was with her now-fiancé.

She’d just finished a long shift at her side job, brain running on fumes, driving home on autopilot. Then it happened — the car in front of her braked hard, and she didn’t notice in time. Bump. Cue panic. And not just any panic — the “oh my god I just hit a car that costs more than my rent for the next three years” panic.

Before she could even untangle her thoughts, the driver jumped out. But instead of yelling, the first thing he did was check her. Not the car, not the damage — her. He called an ambulance, stayed right there with her, told her not to worry about the car bill (“I can manage,” he said, as if his car wasn’t worth a small fortune).

She didn’t clock that he was good-looking at first. She was way too busy panicking and apologizing to notice the sharp jawline and very distracting biceps.

At the hospital, where he got checked over too, he surprised her again — asking for her number and then, with zero hesitation, asking her on a date. That same day. Her brain was like 😟😜 but her mouth went, “uh… hell yeah.”

Fast-forward a bit: she did notice the nice face. And the nice biceps. And the fact that he was definitely wealthy — not in a “look at my gold-plated Lamborghini” way, but in that subtle, you-just-notice kind of way.

Three years later — she’s 24, he’s 31 — he proposed. Last week. In Scotland. Among old castles and ruins, because he knows she’s obsessed with that vibe. The proposal was dreamy, romantic, straight out of her Pinterest board.

Their relationship has survived long stretches apart — his work takes him traveling often, and sometimes she can tag along, sometimes not. But it works. They trust each other completely.

And to think, it all began with a crunch of metal and a very expensive bumper.

He’s standing by the door, suitcase in one hand, jacket in the other, looking annoyingly put-together for someone who had breakfast ten minutes ago.

“I’ll be back in three days,” he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“I know,” she answers, but her tone is somewhere between I’ll miss you and don’t you dare forget to text me.

Daniel smiles that half-smile — the one that got her the first time she actually noticed his face. “Flight’s early tomorrow, but I’ll call tonight once I check in at the hotel.”

She nods, leaning on the doorframe. “Don’t work yourself to death. And don’t charm every waitress in the city.”

“That’s a you-only skill,” he teases, and she rolls her eyes.

His driver honks from outside, and he glances toward the street. Then he turns back, softer now. “Lock the door after me, okay?”

She nods again, trying not to show that little pinch in her chest she always gets when he leaves. “Bring me back something. Not a snow globe. Or socks.”

Daniel grins. “No promises.” Another kiss, this one on her lips, and then he’s out the door, suitcase wheels humming over the pavement.

She closes the door, clicks the lock, and leans her forehead against it for a second. Three days isn’t long. She’ll see him before she knows it. But still… it’s never just “see you later” with him — it’s always come back safe.