Chapter 8 - The Oak Tree Vow
The afternoon sun filtered through the green leaves of the oak tree, casting dancing patterns of light and shadow across Sophia’s face.
She looked at me, her eyes filled with a peace I had never seen in her before.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly, stepping closer, resting her hands against my chest.
“I’m thinking about the day I met you,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her waist. “You were making napkin animals for a scared little boy. I thought you were an angel who had wandered into the wrong world.”
Sophia smiled softly, a tear glistening on her eyelash. “And now?”
“And now,” I pulled the velvet box from my pocket, opening it between us, “I know you are the foundation of my life.”
I took her hand—the hand that had once trembled under a table in terror—and slid the square diamond ring back onto her ring finger.
“Sophia Bennett,” I said, looking deep into her eyes. “Will you marry me? Not in six weeks. Not in secret. But here, today, in front of the people we love, as a free man and a free woman?”
Sophia let out a soft, choked gasp, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice vibrating with pure, unadulterated happiness. “Yes, Adrian! A thousand times, yes!”
May you like
I pulled her into my arms, lifting her off her feet as our lips met in a deep, passionate kiss beneath the ancient oak tree.
Behind us, on the lawn, Clara, Leo, and little Emma broke into joyful applause, their cheers floating up into the clear blue sky.
