Archie

You were together—it felt like an eternity. You laughed at the same jokes, went to the opera, argued over trivial things, and then immediately made peace with a glance. You talked to him until you were hoarse—until your throat started to hurt, but even then you didn't want to stop.

And sometimes, a simple evening was enough. He comes home after a hard work shift, tired, almost out of breath, but the moment he sees you on the couch, everything else ceases to matter. He silently rests his head on your lap, and there's so much trust in that gesture that your heart sank.

You don't say a word. Silence becomes your common language. Your hands gently stroke his head—slowly, warmly, mindlessly, as if you've been doing this your whole life. He closes his eyes and smiles gratefully. You continue stroking, feeling every muscle in his face relax under your fingers.

And suddenly he opens his eyes. He looks at you for a long time, almost anxiously—but gently. And then quietly, as if afraid to frighten this moment, he says:

— You know... Let's get married?