Epilogue
Alex
Eighteen months. That’s how long it’s been since Emma walked into my life properly.
Eighteen months since everything shifted, quietly but unmistakably, until I couldn’t imagine a day without her in it.
We moved in together three months after that first date under the stars.
Not because I rushed her. She just… drifted into my home one night at a time until one morning we both realised she hadn’t slept at her cottage in ten days.
Renting out her place helped us pay for a spring trip to Beirut. Now we’re stamping snow off our boots in Reykjavik airport, and she’s buzzing beside me like she might float.
“Where do we catch the bus to the hotel?” she asks, fingers tightening around her rucksack straps.
“We’re not catching a bus,” I say, nudging her gently. “Got us a rental car.”
Her whole face lights up. Travelling brings out the brightest version of her, the one made of curiosity and excitement and pure joy. “You’re brilliant,” she says, already striding towards the rental desks while I savour the glow she leaves behind her like a comet trail.
An hour later we’re driving out of the city, the 4x4 humming over icy tarmac. Snow lies draped across the landscape like someone pulled a clean sheet over the world. Emma watches it with the kind of focus she reserves for sunrises and bakery windows.
“Shouldn’t we be heading into town?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“That’s it? ‘Nope?’”
“Yup.”
She folds her arms with exaggerated drama but doesn’t shift my hand from her thigh.
Outside, the snow covered lava fields roll past in soft white waves.
Inside, she’s quietly vibrating with curiosity she refuses to admit out loud.
I let her stew in it until the Satnav cheerfully announces our arrival.
The cabin sits tucked into a pocket of hillside, warm light spilling from the windows. Emma steps out of the car, breath fogging the air.
“You booked us a cabin?” Her voice trembles with delight.
“Yup.”
She catches sight of the wooden deck and the round hot tub steaming away like it’s been placed there by some romantic travel brochure designer.
“Alex,” she whispers. “Is that…?”
“It is.”
She doesn’t squeal. She doesn’t jump. She launches. Arms round my neck, cold cheeks pressed to my jaw, the kind of full-body hug that doesn’t just say thank you but something much bigger. I catch her easily, her joy thudding right through me.
“And,” I add, “the forecast says we should see the Northern Lights tonight.”
That gets me a kiss that could power the cabin for a week.
Inside, everything smells of pine and warmth. We unpack, cook dinner together, bumping hips around the tiny kitchen as Emma hums some tune under her breath. By the time we’re outside in swimwear and robes, the sky has turned the deepest shade of velvet black.
The cold slaps us the second the robes drop. The hot tub saves us from our own idiocy. Emma slips in, sighs, and relaxes against me like someone unplugged the world.
“This is amazing,” she murmurs.
“You haven’t even seen the lights yet,” I tease.
She glances up at me, eyes soft, and brushes her fingers over my chest beneath the water. “This is amazing because you’re here,” she says quietly.
I press a kiss into her hair, and for a moment all I can feel is the steady beat of her heart against my side.
Then she gasps. “Alex—look!”
A green shimmer unfurls across the sky, faint at first, then growing, rippling, dancing like a living thing. Emma grabs my arm, breathless, eyes wide with pure awe. The reflection of the aurora dances over her skin.
We watch in silence, the steam rising around us, the world reduced to cold air, warm water, and the woman curled into my side like she belongs nowhere else.
“Emma,” I whisper.
She leans her head towards me without looking away from the sky, trusting me with whatever comes next.
“Marry me.”
She stills. Slowly turns. Her fingertips lift to my jaw as though checking the moment is real. Her eyes search mine.
“Say it again,” she breathes.
“Marry me,” I say, voice steady even as my heart hammers. “Please.”
Her eyes shimmer, and then she nods—a tiny movement, full of certainty. “Yes.”
Everything in my chest loosens at once. Relief. Joy. Something deeper. I kiss her, slow and reverent, then reach for the small ring box hidden beneath a folded towel.
Her breath catches when I open it. A simple platinum band. No stone. Exactly what she once admitted she wanted without thinking I’d ever hear.
When I slide it onto her finger, she covers her mouth with her free hand, emotion flooding her face.
“Alex,” she whispers, “it’s perfect.”
I shake my head softly. “You make everything perfect.”
She laughs then, a sound that warms the night more than the hot tub ever could and pulls me into another kiss as the Northern Lights dance above us like they came out just for her.
And maybe they did.
Because loving Emma feels exactly like this sky. Vast. Electric. Impossible to describe. Impossible not to keep looking at. And impossible to imagine ever living without.