Time seemed to stretch thin in the silence that followed Mark's proposal. The lake was still, the trees rustled faintly, and the golden light of dusk cast everything in a dreamlike hue.
Anna stared at him, her hands frozen at her sides, lips parted but silent. Her eyes were wet—not with shock, but with something heavier. Something layered.
Mark's heart thudded in his chest. "Anna?" he whispered, barely audible. "It's okay. You don't have to—"
She dropped to her knees in front of him.
"No, wait," she said, breathless, almost laughing. "You didn't let me answer."
She took his hand gently and looked into his eyes.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, of course I'll marry you."
Mark blinked—like he hadn't actually prepared for the moment to go well. Relief and joy rushed through him all at once. He let out a breathless laugh, his eyes stinging.
He slipped the ring onto her finger—her hand trembling, his not much steadier—and pulled her into his arms. The world faded. It was just the two of them: on that dock, surrounded by candlelight and the sound of the wind and water.
They sat there long after the sky darkened, leaning into one another in quiet awe.
Later, back in the cabin, Mark lit a fire while Anna curled up on the couch, staring down at the ring, turning her hand back and forth in disbelief.
"This doesn't feel real," she said.
Mark looked over, smiling. "It doesn't have to. It just has to be ours."
She smiled back—grateful, maybe even a little overwhelmed. But above all, sure.
That night, they talked until sleep finally took them—about the future, the wedding, what mattered and what didn't. And though neither could predict what lay ahead, they both believed they had found something worth building. Something worth choosing again and again.