“You what?” I speak through heavy breathing, my hands resting on my knees as I catch my breath while looking at you holding a thermometer that reads 101°F. I blink a few times, the droopy flowers dangling in my hands from how fast I ran here from the market.

It’s Valentine’s day, our fifth one together as a couple. So for awhile now I’ve been planning the best surprise possible: proposing to you. Except everything that could’ve gone wrong did go wrong.

Originally, we were supposed to be in the Maldives for the holiday, but yesterday morning I received an alarming email from our resort saying that they had to cancel and refund us due to a fire. But somehow I managed to get us last minute reservations at a nice place here in London!

Then I lost the ring. I lost. The ring. I have no idea where it could’ve gone. To be fair, I did just run probably two miles in a suit to get you flowers, so it could’ve fallen out on the way. Whatever, I have a warranty on it, it’s fine. I’ll just have to surprise propose with no ring!

But now you’re sick. With a fever. Asking if we can do it tomorrow instead. So I have a planned proposal with no Maldives, no ring, and a sick girlfriend.

Great.