Under the cerulean sky, we stood in the very field where our story began.

The grass whispered secrets beneath our feet, and the air held the promise of something magical.

I turned to look at him, my heart fluttering like a thousand delicate wings. “I like you a lot,” I confessed, my voice soft as the breeze.

His eyes, deep pools of warmth, met mine. “I like you more,” he murmured, pulling me into an embrace that felt like coming home. His touch was gentle, yet it ignited a wildfire within me—a sweet ache of longing and possibility.