22/03/2026
He stood there, heart pounding louder than his thoughts, holding something that didnât look like the usual bouquetâbut somehow meant so much more.
Wrapped in bold red, like the courage it took to stand in front of her, was a handmade piece of love. At the center, a soft pink crochet shaped like a womanâs formâdelicate, strong, and beautifully imperfectâjust like how he saw her. Above it, a small pink heart rested, stitched carefully, every loop whispering the same truth: âI chose you, over and over again.â
âI couldnât find flowers that would last as long as my love for you,â he said, voice trembling but sincere. âSo I made something that wouldnât fade⌠something that reminds me of youâyour strength, your warmth, your beauty.â
She looked at the bouquet, then at himâeyes already glassy, heart already answering.
He took a breath, then slowly dropped to one knee.
âThrough every ordinary day and every uncertain tomorrow⌠will you be my forever?â
For a moment, time pausedâjust her heartbeat echoing his.
Then she smiled, tears falling freely.
âYes.â