Simon woke early on Christmas morning, before any hint of sunlight touched the snow-covered fields outside. Their home, still quiet under the hush of winter, felt both familiar and charged with anticipation. Today was Christmas, yes, but it was also the day he had been imagining for months. The weight of it pressed in, sharp and thrilling, though he told himself to stay calm. Cooking, he decided, would keep him grounded.
He moved into the kitchen, letting the warmth of the oven and the sizzle of butter steady his pulse. He whisked pancake batter, chopped fruit for a compote, and brewed tea in their favourite pot, tossing in cinnamon sticks that sent curls of fragrance spiralling into the room. He made a small show of drizzling syrup with exaggerated care and muttered little jokes to himself, forcing a playful tone, pretending the morning was ordinary while his heart raced.
Breakfast was casual, messy, and warm—the kind of morning that made him smile despite the nerves. He teased the batter, juggled plates for fun, and even flipped a pancake in the air just to keep the atmosphere light. Every movement and sound was deliberate; he wanted the day to feel normal, so nothing would hint at the moment waiting later. He kissed her, flirting as his usual self to keep himself distracted. Even when she prodded him for his surprise, he refused to give in. A tap on her lips, and he simply requested, "Later, it's a surprise."
Later in the evening, after breakfast, they jumped into bed before lunch came, and they felt starved from the exercise. He suggested a walk through the countryside, stopping by for a quick lunch at a cafe, keeping his tone teasing and easy throughout the day.
On the walk back home, the fields stretched wide around them, rolling gently under a blanket of snow. Frost clung to hedgerows, and the distant hills looked pale and endless. He kept his hands in his pockets, fingers brushing the ring box he had hidden carefully, and made little jokes to distract himself. Each laugh he imagined helped calm the tightening coil of nerves in his chest.
The path wound up to a small rise overlooking the fields, the spot he had chosen without her noticing. The sky above was streaked with the faint gold of the setting sun, fading into pale lavender as evening approached. Simon stopped and breathed deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs. Every instinct told him to speak, to act, to make this moment something he could never forget.
He lowered himself to one knee, feeling the cold snow press sharply against his trousers, though he barely noticed it. The small velvet box came free from his pocket, warm against his hand, weighty in all the right ways. He opened it carefully, letting the gold ring catch the fading sunlight for a brief, brilliant moment. It was simple, elegant, and perfect for the life he wanted to promise.
"When I first met you, I never imagined you’d completely steal my heart. And not just a little; it’s like you broke in, took it, and somehow made me grateful for the theft."
"I won’t lie, at the beginning, things weren’t always easy. We faced challenges, misunderstandings, and moments where it felt like life was testing us. But every time we came back to each other, I realised something important: no matter what, I want you. Through every high and every low, I want you by my side, because being with you makes everything better."
"And if you’ll grace me with it, I want a life with children—our little adventures, our inside jokes, our love reflected in them. I want all the rest of my years to be yours, every day and every moment spent together, building a life that’s ours alone."
"I’ve been waiting to ask: will you keep stealing my heart, be my greatest adventure, share this life and family with me, and make me the luckiest man alive by saying yes? Will you marry me, Rose?"
