How The Butcher Met His Wife (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

Chapter 13: And now, you were his forever.

„Thomas?" you called out toward the entrance as you heard the door creak open. You had just finished setting dinner on the table, the warm smell of your cooking filling the house, adding to the cozy December atmosphere.

Thomas stepped inside, stomping the mud off his boots on the doormat. He shrugged off his jacket, hanging it up before walking over to greet you with a kiss—a routine that had become second nature.

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had moved into this house, starting fresh in a new town. It felt like a new chapter for both of you—new jobs, new people, a new life. You worked as a baker on weekends while Thomas had taken a job as a butcher in the small town, working during the week. He still wore his mask, but it was cleaner and more discreet, and obviously for medical reasons. People in town were kinder, more understanding. Maybe because they saw you always by his side.

Your mother had done everything she could to help the two of you get your own place. If you'd stayed any longer in your old town, it would only have been a matter of time before the Hewitts showed up at your door, holding a shotgun to your face. Your father hadn't taken the news well either. Even after you had knocked him out in that heated moment, his feelings toward Thomas hadn't softened much, but hadn't tried to kill him after that at least. It would probably take him a few years to come around...

"How was work?" you asked, placing the last dish on the table.

*"Good,"* Thomas signed as he sat down at the kitchen table.

You joined him, the two of you settling into the evening.

"My mom called—she said she'll be visiting us for Christmas."

*"Your father?"* he asked, his eyes flicking toward you.

"I don't think so. Not this year at least."

You glanced out the window at the cornfield beyond. It lay barren at this time of year, frost and mud coating the ground. You couldn't wait to see it come to life in the summer.

Thomas watched you, and his heart swelled. Everything had changed so quickly—his world had turned upside down. Gone were the long, miserable days of that old, suffocating routine, the harsh environment that had chipped away at him for years. His new life, with you, was better than anything he could have imagined. There were times he feared waking up in that old room, back with his family, but falling asleep by your side always drowned that thought.

He had everything he could ever want—a farm, a future, and most importantly, you.

Well, you weren't his quite yet.

He put down his cutlery, his hands trembling slightly. He tapped on the table, drawing your attention.

*"I have a question."* He signed the words slowly, feeling the weight of them. His heart was pounding so hard he thought you might hear it across the table.

"What is it?" you asked, your brow furrowing slightly as you noticed his nervousness.

He couldn't bring himself to look directly at you, so he stared at the table, then slowly signed the word: *"Marriage."*

Thomas slid a small box across the table toward you.

It was something he had been saving for since the day he started his new job. He hadn't known when or how he'd ask you, but this felt right, even if it wasn't perfect. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst.

Your eyes widened when you saw the box. Your hands froze as you glanced from him to the box and back again.

"Are you—?"