Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Nataly
December, 3 months later
Today is Nathan’s birthday! A December birthday, which means it’s that time of year—the season of all things magical. And if there’s one thing about me, it’s this: I’m a birthday girl. I love birthdays. I love making people feel special. It’s your day, so let’s celebrate you . Let’s do all your favorite things! Let’s make it magical.
And that’s where my heart is today. I want Nathan to have the best day. But I’m already annoyed, because the gift I got him isn’t ready.
Nathan’s a huge car guy, so I planned something I think he’ll love: an experience where he could drive a supercar on a race track. But of course, the dates didn’t line up. The soonest we can do it is January.
So now, I feel a little unsettled, like I’m already failing at making his day epic. Maybe my standards are too high. Maybe I’m overthinking this. But Nathan has gone above and beyond for me .
This is the guy who surprised me with concert tickets to one of my favorite artists. Who whisked me away to Disneyland Paris for my 21st birthday—where we stayed at his aunt’s house.
I felt like I was in another world. Every little detail was perfect. I didn’t want to leave.
How am I supposed to top that when we’re just in London?
Not that it’s a competition. It’s not. I just want him to feel how loved he is. I want him to know I’ve thought about him the way he always thinks about me.
But today is here, ready or not. So, we’re keeping it low-key but special.
So far, we’ve had brunch at a new spot in London. Next, we’re heading to Winter Wonderland to go ice skating, and then we’ll finish the night with dinner and cake with my parents. They’re even getting the coach up from Bournemouth to be here.
Winter Wonderland in London is a Christmas lover’s dream with twinkling lights everywhere. German market stalls spilling over with handmade trinkets. The smell of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and warm mulled wine curling through the air.
I am that Christmas lover. It’s festive. Magical. A place where you half expect to turn the corner and see a real-life Christmas rom-com happening in front of you.
I love it.
But today isn’t about me.
Nathan and I are lacing up our skates, his friends doing the same beside us. One of them is visiting from Northern Ireland, staying with Nathan for a few days. A couple of others are here, too, laughing and joking as we all get ready. It feels festive and fun, the air buzzing with laughter and Christmas music.
Nathan finishes lacing up first, then stands and reaches down for me, pulling me to my feet. His hand is warm, steady, familiar.
“How good are you at ice skating?” I ask, gripping his hand as I step onto the ice.
I used to take ice skating lessons. As a kid, I dreamed of being one of those graceful figure skaters, effortlessly gliding across the rink, maybe even landing a perfect spin. Maybe even a triple axel.
But today? Today, I will not be the effortlessly cool ice princess. I will be a baby penguin learning to waddle.
Nathan shrugs. “I’m decent.”
I narrow my eyes. Decent is a vague answer. Suspiciously vague.
And a few seconds later, I learn why.
Because decent is not the right word.
Nathan is skating backward—effortlessly, smoothly weaving through the crowd like he was born on ice. He’s weaving through people, completely at ease, fast and agile, moving like he’s in some kind of winter sports montage. He looks like he should’ve taken up ice hockey.
Meanwhile, I’m just trying to find my ice legs.
He circles back toward me, reaching for my hands with a teasing grin. “C’mon, keep up.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “I am keeping up.” ( Barely. )
We skate together—when I can keep up—and when I can’t, he helps me, dragging me along, making me giggle as he deliberately speeds up.
It’s fun. So fun. I want to make this a yearly tradition.
And Nathan looks like he’s enjoying himself, so that’s a win.
But then, just as we’re finishing up, something catches my eye. A couple is at the center of the rink. And he’s down on one knee.
My heart melts instantly. I grab Nathan’s arm. “Look! Oh my word, how sweet is that?”
But before I can fully swoon, Nathan stiffens beside me.
His voice is dry. “I can’t believe he’d do it in front of all these people.”
It’s like the wind is knocked out of me.
“Oh.” I squeak out. That’s all I manage. Just a tiny, fragile syllable.
I blink up at him. He knows I love the idea of having people around when we get engaged. We’ve talked about it. We’ve hinted at marriage plenty, always landing on the same page: sooner rather than later . And he’s made it clear he’s saving for a ring.
But this? This feels like a direct contradiction of everything I thought he knew about me.
I swallow, forcing a light laugh. “I guess it could be nerve-wracking…” My voice trails off.
He doesn’t respond.
I glance back at the couple just as she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shimmering with happy tears.
That should be a moment you never forget.
Doubt pricks at the edges of my heart. Does he really not want that?
I shake the thought away. God knows my heart. He knows my dreams.
It’s going to work out. It has to.
We finish skating, and it’s nearly time to meet my parents at Canary Wharf. But Nathan suggests one more stop—his friend Alex is in town for just a few more hours.
So, we head for coffee.
Everything is fine until my phone buzzes. I glance down. Mom.
I fumble to answer. “Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, sweetie! Where are you guys?”
I bite my lip. We’re supposed to be there in ten minutes.
“We’re about half an hour away,” I admit. “Nathan’s just catching up with a friend from home. Sorry we’re late!”
“Ohhh, don’t worry at all, filhinha ! We’ll see you soon. We’ll grab a coffee while we wait.”
I breathe out a relieved sigh. No lecture. I fully expected one. My parents hate tardiness. Maybe because it’s Nathan’s birthday, they’re letting it slide. I thought it was adorable that Nathan wanted my parents to come up for his birthday. I would’ve thought he would’ve wanted to go out with our friends for the night, but a low key dinner and cake at my place? How sweet is that?
Finally, we say goodbye to Alex, and I shoot my mom a text.
Me: We’ll see you soon, Mom! Just jumping on the tube now. 30 minutes.
Nathan and I step onto the escalator, descending into the underground.
I glance up at him. His jaw is set, his face a little pale.
I nudge him gently. “Are you okay?”
He hesitates. “Yeah, just feel a little queasy.”
I frown. “Maybe it was the hot dog you had earlier?”
“Yeah, maybe.” His hand finds mine, fingers lacing through. But his grip is a little tighter than usual.
I study him as the train approaches, the rush of wind whipping past us.
He’s quiet. Focused.
Weird. But I brush it off. He probably just needs some water. He’ll be fine.
Right?
We arrive at Canary Wharf, and to my relief, my parents don’t seem the least bit concerned about our lateness. My mom is all smiles, my dad is relaxed, and just like that, the tension in my shoulders disappears. The four of us hop on a bus toward my house, and I make a mental checklist of everything we need for dinner.
The tortillas. I almost forgot.
"I'm just going to pop into the shop real quick," I say as we move off the bus, already reaching for my wallet. "I think I only have, like, two tortillas left at home, and I definitely need more.”
Nathan, who has been quietly holding my hand, tugs me forward instead of letting me turn toward the store. "Maybe you should check at home first, just to be sure.”
I frown, glancing at him. "I already know I need them.”
"Just have a look when you’re home," he says, his voice a little too casual. "I think you’ll know better then.”
That’s...odd. The store is right here. But maybe he's right. Maybe I’ll feel better figuring out exactly how many I need once I’m in the kitchen. Plus, I should probably get my parents settled first.
We walk the short two minutes to my house, and I pull out my key, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. It's dark inside except for a single light left on near the stairs. London sunsets in December feel abrupt, the kind of darkness that settles fast and deep. It’s already pitch black and it’s only 5pm.
The moment I step inside, a figure moves in the dim light.
"Hey, Nataly," my housemate Sadie says, looking up from her phone screen.
"AHH!" I let out a startled squeal, my hand flying to my chest. "Sadie, you scared me!”
My mind immediately starts racing. Why is she down here in the dark? Our house is built strangely—my bedroom and the laundry room are on the first floor, the living room and kitchen on the second, and the other bedrooms on the third. Unless she was doing laundry in pitch-black darkness, there’s no reason for her to be here.
She glances toward the back door and nods. "I've got something to show you out here.”
The moment she opens the first door leading to the backyard, my pulse kicks up.
Something smells like smoke.
Panic flares in my chest. Oh no. What did I do now? Did I burn the house down? No, that doesn’t make sense, I chide myself, we’re standing in it . My brain scrambles for answers. Did I leave my curling wand on and they had to toss it outside to keep the house from going up in flames?
But as I step outside, all those thoughts scatter.
Lining the fence, bathed in the warm glow of a line of flickering lanterns, is a group of people. My breath catches. But I only catch one familiar face—Jerome is here.
And for a brief, ridiculous second, my brain jumps to the most absurd conclusion. GUYS, I silently reprimand them, you planned a surprise birthday party for Nathan WITHOUT ME?! How inconsiderate. I’d want to be all over that.
I take another step forward, wondering what’s happening, when something twinkles in the corner of my eye. I turn my head, and my breath leaves me in one swift whoosh.
A massive pink mural spans the wall. It’s hand-painted, bold and beautiful, and written across it in large, sweeping letters are five words that send my heart into free fall.
Nataly, will you marry me?
And right beside it, painted with exquisite detail, is my face.
I gasp. My wallet is still clutched in one hand, my phone in the other. My mind barely has time to process as I turn around.
Nathan is already down on one knee.
His face is open, vulnerable, his brown eyes steady as they meet mine. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, my breath coming in little gasps.
"Nataly," he says, his voice low, warm, filled with certainty. "Will you marry me and spend the rest of your life with me?”
He flips open a velvet box, revealing a ring that shimmers under the glow of the fairy lights.
I don’t even wait for my brain to catch up. I nearly snatch the box from his hands, my high-pitched squeal bursting out before I can contain it. I’m ready to be engaged .
"OF COURSE I WILL!”
Laughter rumbles from him as he slides the ring onto my trembling hand. Like it was always meant to be there.
I spin to face my dad, still breathless, my hands clutching my chest. "Dad, did you know?!" The question tumbles out before I can stop it.
He laughs, the kind of deep, knowing laugh that says he’s been in on this for a while. “Yes."
Relief floods me. That was my last loose end, the last thing I needed to confirm before I could fully, fully let myself fall into this moment. I’ve never been more sure of a decision. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I just said yes .
I launch myself forward, my arms wrapping around Nathan as I kiss him—my fiancé. MY FIANCé.
Around us, the backyard erupts in cheers. Sparklers are lit, a champagne bottle pops open, and friends rush forward, laughter and joy swirling around us like a warm embrace. I’m giggling non-stop, my whole body buzzing.
Somewhere in the chaos, I turn back to the mural, my fingers lightly touching the painted surface. "Who did this?”
Nathan grins. “Sasha."
I spin back to him. "Sasha? The artist from church?”
"Yep," he nods, his grin flashing. "She was at our house for a couple of days painting it.”
Memories flicker—Nathan casually chatting with her, acting super interested in her work. And now it all makes sense. I had seen her art before, had admired the way she captured people so vividly. She even had drawn friends from church. I had even wondered, in passing, what I’d look like if she ever painted me.
Now I know.
Laughter and conversation spill into the night as someone calls us inside.
The second I step into the kitchen, my eyes land on the table.
Tortillas. Lots and lots of tortillas.
Realization dawns, and I whip around to find Nathan watching me, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Told you you should check at home first," he says with a wink.
I melt. This man. I’m engaged to this man.
Andy, one of our friends, calls from behind the table, gesturing to the spread of food. "Let’s eat!”
And just like that, the night shifts into celebration. It’s a full-blown engagement party, one I never saw coming, yet it’s everything I could have dreamed of.
At some point, our photographer—who also happens to be a wedding photographer from church—waves me over. She scrolls through her laptop, showing me the first sneak peeks. I squeal—because that’s all I seem capable of tonight. If anyone plays back the videos from this evening, I might have to mute them to spare my own ears.
But it doesn’t matter.
I love seeing these photos. I love that everyone is HERE! Now, it also makes sense why Nathan wanted my parents here. I chuckle to myself. Of course he tried to act all sweet making me think that he wanted a low key night with my parents. I should’ve known he would normally want to go out for the evening.
It’s funny—I still remember the guilt I felt, leaving for Dublin and forgetting Mom’s birthday. But now I see God knew what He was doing all along. If I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have met Nathan in the sweetest of ways. And now we’re here . I’m engaged to him.
As we eat throughout the night, and one of my housemates even brings out cake—something I had not actually sorted and mentally facepalm myself for thinking I could bake one for him—I’m thinking about how much this man knows me. How much God knew what I wanted for a dreamy proposal.
It was SO creative. It was so different. There’s people to immediately celebrate with! It was like something out of a romantic comedy. And it was a surprise . I would’ve never ever guessed he would do it today.
He makes his way over to me and wraps one arm around me from the side, kissing my temple. I’ve found someone who knows me so well, on the inside and out, and he wants every part of me. He wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He’s always been so clear about what he wanted, and I’m what what he wants.
Here’s to that can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World-Series kind of stuff.