Chapter Text
*two years later*
It was a Saturday in March, one of those uncertain ones, caught between a winter that refuses to leave and a spring that peeks in, timid and shy.
Outside, it rained with patience, as if every drop had carefully chosen where to fall. Inside, instead, the house was filled with a warm sort of chaos: books on the table, mismatched slippers, jazz music playing softly, and the sweet, roasted scent of freshly brewed coffee.
Maya was sitting on the rug, cross-legged, her face turned toward the window. Her fingers gently stroked the fur of Pumpkin, their cat, asleep against her thigh. She was wearing one of Carina’s shirts, far too big for her, the sleeves rolled up clumsily. She smiled without really knowing why, the way you do when you’re just happy, and that’s enough.
Carina was watching her from the kitchen. Her heart full to the brim, overflowing. She had seen Maya in a thousand versions: messy-haired in the morning, lost in thought, brave without realizing it, tender when no one asked her to be. But that evening… that evening she seemed even more beautiful. Maybe because the light was just right. Or maybe because Carina had finally found the courage.
She walked back into the living room carrying a tray: two mugs, one with rose tea and the other with milk and honey, two lemon cookies — Maya’s favorites — and a small box hidden beneath a light blue linen napkin.
"Did you make those cookies?" Maya asked, catching their scent before Carina could speak.
"They didn’t explode. That’s something, right?" Carina laughed, sitting down next to her.
"Noted. I’ll mark the date on the calendar: today, you didn’t commit kitchen crimes."
"You know, one of these days they’re going to ban you from sarcasm."
"Impossible. It’s my superpower."
Carina smiled, then grew serious — but not stiff. Softer. As if opening a drawer inside herself. She took Maya’s hands in hers and looked at her. Maya, as always, sensed the shift in the air. She straightened a bit, her fingers tensing as if reaching for a meaning.
"What’s going on?"
"Nothing. Or maybe everything."
"Carina…?"
Carina took a deep breath, then pulled the little box from under the napkin and placed it in Maya’s hands.
"Open it."
Maya obeyed, with that particular gentleness of hers. Her fingers slid along the edge, recognized the velvet, then the tiny clasp. She lifted it.
There was silence. The full kind, more meaningful than a thousand words.
Inside was a rose gold ring, simple and perfect, with an engraving inside, in Braille:
Every day, forever.
Maya traced the marks, her lips moving silently as she read them.
Carina, kneeling beside her on the rug, spoke with a voice steady but full of emotion:
"There’s no fancy restaurant, no breathtaking backdrop. Just us. This house. This ordinary Saturday night. But it’s here that I understood everything. When I see you make coffee and count the steps to the window. When I hear you laugh quietly while reading with your fingers. When you call me just to ask where I left the charger. It’s in all these little things that I fell in love with you. Without even realizing it. Without fear."
Maya was holding her breath. Her hand trembled slightly.
Carina continued, moving closer.
"I want to live every ordinary thing with you. Even the bad days, even the messed-up laundry. I want to be the one who helps describe to you the skies you can’t see, and you’ll be the one who makes me listen to the world like I never have before. Will you marry me, Maya? Will you become my home, every day, forever?"
Maya pressed the ring to her chest, quite literally. She closed her hands around the little box, as if to protect it. Then she reached for Carina, found her face with a touch, framed it between her hands.
"Yes. With everything I am. Yes, if you promise to keep describing to me how people smile. Yes, because with you I’ve learned that love has a voice, has a scent, has presence. It doesn’t need eyes."
She kissed her — slow, deep. A kiss full of unspoken promises, of future days, of tenderness and fire. When they pulled apart, Maya took Carina’s hand and slipped the ring onto her finger herself, after reading it once more with care.
"Every day…" she whispered.
"Forever," Carina finished, hugging her tightly.
And then they stayed there, in pajamas, on the rug, with the cookies now cold and the tea nearly lukewarm.
But they had a ring. A promise. A future.
And hearts full of love, like a room that no longer needs to be filled.