FAYE
For a long moment, I didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
The world felt suspended around us–the soft music, the quiet murmurs of other diners, the clinking of cutlery. All of it faded until all I could see was him.
Alexander.
On the other side of the table.
Steady. Patient.
Waiting for me.
I swallowed, but it barely worked. My fingers trembled where they rested on the table.
“I…” I tried again, breath catching. “Alexander, I don’t even know what to say.”
A faint smile touched his lips. And I smiled too.
“Just say what you feel,” he said softly.
What I felt?
I felt everything… too much.
More than I had ever expected to feel for anyone.
My eyes traveled from his face to the ring–simple, elegant, absolutely beautiful—and then back to him.
And suddenly, all the emotions swirling inside me broke open at once.
I let out a shaky breath and pressed a hand to my chest, right where my heart was trying to escape my ribcage.
“Alexander…” My voice cracked, and I didn’t care. “Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly–as if he hadn’t expected me to answer so quickly, or maybe at all. How could I say no to this man?
“Yes?” he repeated, quiet and hopeful.
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“Yes,” I whispered again, firmer this time, a tremor of laughter breaking through the emotion. “Of course yes. I’ll marry you.”
The relief that washed over his face was subtle but absolutely breathtaking. His shoulders loosened, the tension around his eyes softened, and that smile–the rare one, the soft one- bloomed fully.
He rose from his seat slowly, walking around the table. My breath caught as he came to stand beside me, lowering himself to one knee so gracefully it made my eyes sting.
“May I?” he murmured.
I offered my hand, trembling, overwhelmed, and he took it with both of his as though he were holding something precious.
He slid the ring onto my finger–careful, tender, reverent–then lifted my hand to his lips and pressed the faintest kiss to my knuckles.
Warmth flooded through me from head to toe.
When he looked up at me from where he knelt, everything stopped again… the noise, the lights, even my pulse… for just a heartbeat.
“You’re mine in every way now,” he whispered. “Not because our families say so, not because of some political arrangement. But because we chose it.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I blinked them away and leaned down, cupping his face gently.
“And I choose you, Alexander Blackwell,” I whispered back.
He rose then, pulling me into a slow, steady kiss.
When we finally pulled apart, I couldn’t stop smiling. I looked down at my hand again, at the ring that sparkled under the restaurant lights, and my heart felt like it couldn’t possibly hold any more happiness.
Alexander brushed a thumb across my cheek, the softest touch.
“Ready for dessert?” he teased lightly.
I laughed a little, wiping the corner of my eye with the back of my hand. “Only if it comes with
another kiss.”
His smile deepened. “That can be arranged.”
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Faye had been tracing the diamond on her finger for the past minute, utterly mesmerized. The way her smile kept slipping out, soft and shy, made me smile uncontrollably. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of watching her like that… I could watch her all day, every day.
She held her hand up again, turning it so the candlelight scattered over the stone. “It’s so beautiful,” she’d whispered earlier, almost like she still didn’t believe it was hers.
I was still staring at her–because honestly, I couldn’t look anywhere else–when the shift happened.
It was small at first… a tiny stillness.
Her smile faded, just a little, then completely.
Her eyes weren’t focused on her ring anymore. They weren’t focused on me either. They were fixed on something behind my shoulder, something that wasn’t actually there. Her breathing stilled. Her hand trembled the slightest bit.
“Faye?” I leaned forward, keeping my voice low.
No response.
Her gaze locked on the same empty spot, wide and distant in a way that made my stomach tighten. I tried again, softer this time. “Hey, look at me.”
Still nothing.
Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but the sound never came out. She looked… emotional. Not frightened exactly–just deeply affected. Like whatever she was seeing reached somewhere inside her I couldn’t touch.
I felt my heart rate spike. I reached across the table, brushing my fingers over the back of her hand. “Faye.”
That did it. She blinked hard–once, twice–like she was surfacing from underwater.
Then she let out a shaky breath, and her hand moved on instinct, pressing flat against her belly.
Her eyes glistened.
“The baby,” she whispered.
A cold rush shot through me. For a second I didn’t understand–then it hit me.
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Maybe she’d just had another vision.
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My chair scraped back as I moved closer to her. “You saw something.” It wasn’t a question.
Faye nodded, her throat working as she swallowed.
I wanted to ask immediately–what did you see? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?-but she looked fragile in a way that told me pushing her would only make things worse. Yet, I couldn’t help myself.
“Faye,” I said gently, “talk to me. What did you see?”
She didn’t look at me. She kept staring at her belly like she was afraid if she moved, even a little, whatever she saw might come true. When she finally lifted her gaze, her eyes were pleading.
“Alexander…” Her voice was barely there. “Please… just take me home.”
That was all she said. But it was enough.
I didn’t press. I didn’t demand details she wasn’t ready to give yet, probably because she was
shaken.
“Alright,” I murmured, already reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”
I helped her out of her chair, steadying her when she swayed slightly. She held onto my arm the whole way, quiet and distant, and I kept my body close enough to shield her without crowding her.
I paid quickly, barely hearing the waiter’s thanks.
The moment Faye settled into the passenger seat, she exhaled shakily and leaned her head back, eyes closed. I rounded the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and was just about to start the engine when her hand came up gently to rest on my wrist.
“Wait.”
I froze immediately and turned to her. She wasn’t looking at me–her eyes were fixed on nothing, somewhere past the dashboard, like she was gathering the courage to speak.
“I should tell you,” she whispered.
I didn’t rush her. I just waited, giving her the space she needed.
Finally, she spoke, her voice soft. “In there, I saw a baby cot. It was… empty, and I saw myself
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standing beside it. I looked… devastated. And you were there too. Watching me from a distance. You looked sad, like you wanted to comfort me but couldn’t.”
Her fingers curled slightly on her lap. “It felt so real, Alexander. It felt like something terrible was going to happen.”
I felt the words hit me–heavy and cold. For a brief moment, it was like the air in the car thinned. But I forced myself to breathe slowly, to stay grounded.
I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “Faye… look at me.”
She did, reluctantly, eyes brimming with fear she was trying so hard to hide.
“I know what you saw scared you,” I said softly. “And I get it, I do. But you don’t need to jump straight to the worst possible meaning.”
“But it was an empty cot,” she whispered. “How else am I supposed to interpret that?”
“We’ll take it as a warning,” I countered gently. “It could be a warning for us to be careful.”
She shook her head. “Alexander… when I saw you dying, it came true. I warned you, and you didn’t take it seriously. You brushed it off. And then-”
“And then I paid for it,” I cut in quietly, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “You’re right. I was careless then. I didn’t take what you said seriously enough. That won’t happen again.”
Her breath hitched.
“Baby, listen to me,” I said, choosing each word slowly. “Visions like this aren’t fates carved in stone. They’re warnings. They’re giving us a chance to protect what’s ours.”
I squeezed her hand gently. “This time, we’re prepared. This time, we stay on guard. And we protect our child together, no matter what.”
She stared at me for a long second, and then her shoulders finally lowered. She took a deep, trembling breath… then nodded softly.
A tiny smile touched her lips–small, hesitant, but there.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Together.”
“Always.”
Silence settled for a moment.
Then she glanced away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For ruining your night. It was supposed to be special. You planned all this and-”
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“Hey,” I cut in, tugging her chin gently so she’d look at me. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
“But-
“I was actually thinking about taking the celebration home anyway,” I said with a small smile. “You just sped up the plan.”
That earned a quiet, breathy laugh.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
