The sun hung low in the sky as Carol Russo and Nick strolled through the bustling farmer's market. The scent of fresh flowers and ripe fruit enveloped them, weaving a tapestry of memories.
"Look at these peonies," Carol said, her eyes alight. "They remind me of our first summer together."
Nick chuckled. "You mean the one where we got caught in that thunderstorm?"
She nudged him playfully. "Yes! You insisted on sharing your umbrella, even though it barely covered both of us."
Nick's gaze softened. "I knew then that you were something special."
They wandered past stalls laden with colorful produce—ruby-red strawberries, golden apricots, and plump tomatoes. Carol picked up a peach, turning it in her hand.
"Remember when Kennedy was just a toddler?" she said. "She'd sit in the shopping cart, grabbing at everything."
Nick nodded. "And you'd scold me for sneaking her extra cookies."
Carol's laughter danced through the air. "You were the fun parent. I had to be the responsible one."
As they reached the flower section, Carol's eyes widened. "Hydrangeas! They're my favorite."
Nick studied the blooms. "They remind me of your eyes—ever-changing, full of secrets."
She blushed, swatting his arm. "Stop being poetic."
But Nick wasn't done. "And these daisies? They're like Kennedy—bright, resilient."
Carol's heart swelled. "You've always been good with words."
He hesitated, then reached for a small potted plant—a delicate orchid. "This one's for you."
Carol blinked. "An orchid? Nick, you know they're notoriously hard to care for."
He grinned. "Just like us. But with the right attention, they bloom beautifully."
She took the plant, cradling it in her arms. "You're right. We've weathered storms, but we're still here."
They paid for their purchases, fingers brushing as they shared the bag. Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow on their faces.
"Carol," Nick said, his voice serious. "I've been thinking."
She raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous territory."
He chuckled. "What if we planted our own garden? Something that grows with us—a symbol of our love."
Carol's heart skipped a beat. "You mean—"
"Marriage," he said. "I want to marry you, Carol."
She blinked back tears. "Nick Russo, you're full of surprises."
He took her hand. "I've loved you since that thunderstorm. And I'll keep loving you, even when the skies are clear."
Carol leaned against him, the orchid cradled between them. "Yes, Nick. Let's plant our own blossoms."
And as they walked home, the sun sinking behind the cityscape, Carol knew that love, like flowers, needed care, patience, and a little bit of magic.
