You slipped your thumb over the ring and I realized how much I wanted ordinary days with you.

I remember the mint you offered after nerves shook your hands — small and true.

You promised a lifetime of small mistakes and shared breakfasts and I accepted.

The quiet between us after you asked was full of all the little things we've done.

You chewed your lip for a second before speaking and I loved that honest pause.

You looked at me with that guilty grin when you misplaced the ring twice.

That tiny ding-ting when the ring box closed will play in my head forever.

You sniffed and pretended not to cry — I saw it and it made me laugh through tears.

I can't stop smiling thinking about the way you rearranged your words before asking.

Saying yes to you right after you burned the toast felt so right.

You dropped the napkin during dinner and I loved you for being human in that moment.

I still see your hair mussed from that first excited hug — perfect and messy.

You squeezed my hand after I answered and that squeeze said more than the words.

Holding the ring I kept thinking of all the small mornings we'll share.

You read the little note first and then looked at me like you were choosing me again.

I woke up replaying your voice; it'll be my favorite sound for a long time.

Your teary laugh on the balcony made the moment less loud and more real.

You tucked the ring box into your pocket like it was a secret we already shared.

Saying yes felt simple and strange and absolutely the best decision I’ve made.

You brushed crumb off my lip mid-question and I couldn't stop grinning.

I keep opening our photos from tonight and smiling at the silly faces we made.

You answered with one word and it fixed the small, tired part of me.

The weight of the ring on your finger looks like a promise I can trust.

I said yes to the tiny jar of jam you bought that morning and to you, too.

Your left sleeve caught on the table and you laughed — I fell for that laugh again.

My chest was tight when you knelt; it's a new kind of calm I didn't expect.

I keep smiling at the coffee stain on your shirt from this afternoon, proof we were here.

You put the ring on with a half-smile and it hit me: I get to wake up next to you.

Your phone buzzing during the proposal and you ignoring it made me love you more.

Hearing you say 'I do' in that tiny voice of yours is still ringing in my head.

You took my hand at the top of the stairs and I felt perfectly ordinary and sure.

I’m stunned that after all our messes we chose each other in front of the plants.

When you almost dropped the ring I wanted to steady you and stay steady forever.

I keep replaying how you whispered my name after I closed the door on everyone.

That crooked little engraving on the ring made me laugh — and then I cried.

You said yes and my hands are still shaking from grinning in the hallway.

I watched you fumble the ring box with your left hand and loved you more for being nervous.

You kissed my forehead after the question and everything else dissolved.

You tightened your scarf against the cold; undo it slowly when we’re alone and let me complain about the chill.

Save one slice of cake for me; I’ll trade it for a favour you’ll be glad to give.