It was already 7:30 pm on a November evening. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, and a brisk chill swept through the air. Aliya, a morning front desk agent at a nearby hotel, had just finished an exhausting extra two-hour shift. Her feet ached, and her shoulders felt weighed down by fatigue as she trudged up the gravel pathway to their small, one-story house. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of pine.

Aliya rummaged through her bag, her fingers numb from the cold, but her keys were nowhere to be found. She sighed, a puff of mist forming in the air, and knocked on the door.

"Dylan, open up," she muttered under her breath. She knocked again, louder this time. After the fourth knock, the door finally creaked open, revealing Dylan.

Dylan stood there in a crisp shirt and neatly pressed pants, a sight that made Aliya blink in surprise. He looked handsome, the scent of cedarwood wafting from him. His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a slight smile that danced in his eyes.

"Wow, what's with the fancy clothes? Something special happening?" Aliya's voice carried a blend of curiosity and flirtation, tinged with the exhaustion and annoyance of her long day.

She stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping her like a comforting embrace. Without thinking, she slipped her hand inside Dylan's shirt, her fingers seeking the heat of his skin to combat the cold of her own. Her fingertips traced the hard lines of his abs, feeling the muscle tense beneath her touch.

Dylan's hand caught hers gently but firmly. "Wait, Aliya..."

She frowned, her brows knitting together in confusion. Before she could voice her irritation, a small cough sounded from inside the house. She turned her head, her heart skipping a beat.

Stepping out from the living room, her parents emerged, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the table lamp. Her mother, draped in a rich maroon saree with gold accents, and her father, in a neatly pressed suit, stood with tentative smiles. The familiar scent of her mother's jasmine perfume filled the room, a poignant reminder of childhood mornings in their home.

Aliya's eyes opened wide, a mix of surprise and disbelief taking hold. Her breath hitched, and tears began to cloud her sight as she was overwhelmed with emotion. It had been four years since she last saw them, their relationship weathered by continual misunderstandings and unmet expectations. Though they occasionally spoke on the phone, she never imagined they would travel all the way to the USA to see her.

"Ma? Papa?" her voice trembled, a fragile bridge between joy and sorrow.

Her mother's eyes softened, and she stepped forward, opening her arms. "We missed you so much, Alu." she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Aliya's defenses crumbled. She rushed into her mother's embrace, her body wracked with sobs that seemed to echo all the years of distance and silence. Her father joined them, his hand resting gently on her back, a rare gesture of affection that spoke volumes.

"I missed you too," Aliya managed to choke out between sobs, a smile breaking through the tears.

Aliya pulled back slightly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice still trembling but colored with genuine curiosity.

Her father cleared his throat, a small, awkward gesture that reminded her of how formal he always was. "We wanted to surprise you," he said. "Dylan helped us plan this."

Dylan stepped back to give them space, his eyes meeting Aliya's over her mother's shoulder. She mouthed a silent "thank you" and blew him a kiss. He caught it mid-air with a playful flourish and held it to his heart.

"Okay, guys," Dylan clapped his hands together, drawing the room's attention. "I've booked four seats at Delia's for dinner."

"What? Why?" Aliya's face creased with concern. "It's so expensive..."

"We've got to celebrate," Dylan replied, his grin widening. "I got the teaching job. And your parents are here. We need to make today the best day."

Aliya's expression softened, a mix of pride and joy lighting up her eyes. She crossed the room and enveloped him in a hug, the kind that made the world fall away for a moment. Their small house in Vermont seemed to shrink around their happiness, the soft yellow light from the lamps casting a cozy glow on the dark wooden floors and simple furniture.

Stepping outside into the crisp night with family felt different. The cold November air nipped at their cheeks, but it couldn't touch the warmth they felt within. The narrow streets of their Vermont town were quiet, the sidewalks dusted with the first light snow of the season. Street lamps cast long shadows, and the smell of wood smoke wafted from nearby chimneys.

As they walked towards the restaurant, Aliya felt a sense of peace and belonging that had been missing for so long. The past misunderstandings and unmet expectations seemed to melt away, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

Aliya's mother, a petite woman with silver streaks in her dark hair, buttoned her coat tighter against the chill. She smiled warmly, linking her arm through her daughter's.

"Do you remember the time you tried to climb the big mango tree in our backyard, Aliya?" her mother began, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "You must have been six or seven. You were so determined to reach the top. I told you it was too high, but you just looked at me and said, 'I can do it, Mommy. I'll be careful.'"

Aliya laughed, the sound echoing softly in the still night. "And then I fell and sprained my ankle, right?"

Her mother nodded, chuckling. "Yes, but that didn't stop you. The next week, you were back at it, climbing that tree like nothing had happened."

Dylan, walking slightly ahead, turned around and walked backward to face them. "Fearless and stubborn. A dangerous combination," he teased, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"I call it passionate," Aliya shot back, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Yes, so passionate that you're still scared to put videos on YouTube," he huffed, playfully.

Aliya rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "It's different, Dylan. Putting myself out there for the whole world to see is a bit more daunting than climbing a tree."

Dylan nodded, conceding the point. "Fair enough. But you've got talent, Aliya. People need to see that."

The soft glow from the restaurant's windows spilled onto the sidewalk, casting a golden hue that seemed to warm the cold air. Her parents followed, their expressions a mix of curiosity and mild apprehension. The small-town charm of places like Delia's felt foreign to them.

They walked up to the entrance, the cold making their steps brisk. As they pushed through the heavy wooden door, a wave of warmth and the rich aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread greeted them. Inside, the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery enveloped them, a stark contrast to the silence of the night outside.

The restaurant was a picture of cozy elegance. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, and the tables were dressed with crisp white linens.

Dylan approached the receptionist, a young woman with a warm smile and dark, curly hair pulled back in a neat bun. "We have a reservation," Dylan said, his voice steady but polite.

"Of course," the receptionist replied, checking her list. "Name, please?"

"Dylan Archer."

The receptionist's smile widened as she found the name. "Welcome, Mr. Archer. Right this way."

They were led to a table by the window, where the flickering candlelight created a cozy nook. The waiter, a tall young man with an easygoing demeanor, approached them with a warm smile. "Good evening. My name is Alex, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?"

Aliya glanced at her parents. Her father, Mahindra, adjusted his glasses and gave Aliya an encouraging nod. "Dylan, why don't you order for us?" Mahindra suggested, his voice deep and steady, tinged with a slight accent that hinted at his Indian roots.

Dylan, seated beside Aliya, took a deep breath. "Of course," he replied, flashing a confident smile at Alex. "We'll start with some sparkling water, please. And I think a glass of red wine for myself. Aliya, what would you like?"

Aliya's eyes twinkled as she met Dylan's gaze. "I'll have the same, thanks," she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of excitement and nerves.

"And for you, sir?" Dylan asked, turning to her father.

"A glass of Chardonnay, please," her father responded with a polite smile.

Suman shook her head slightly. "No alcohol for me, thank you. Just water," she said, her tone gentle but firm.

"So, Aliya tells us that you're very loving and careful, Dylan," Mahindra said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at Dylan with a warm, approving gaze.

Dylan smiled, his hand reaching for Aliya's under the table. "I try my best, sir. Aliya means the world to me."

Suman leaned forward slightly, her bangles jingling softly. "It's a comfort to us to know she has someone who cares for her so deeply. She speaks highly of you, Dylan. We can see she is happy."

Aliya blushed, her fingers intertwining with Dylan's. "He's been amazing, Mom. Always there for me, understanding and patient."

The waiter, Alex, returned with their drinks, setting them down with practiced grace. "Here we are. Sparkling water, Chardonnay, red wine, and water. Are you ready to order your food, or do you need a few more minutes?"

Dylan looked at Aliya, silently asking for her support. She nodded subtly, and he turned back to Alex. "We're ready. For starters, we'll have the wood-grilled jumbo shrimp and the mushroom roast. And for the main course, the lamb kofta and rice."

"Excellent choices," Alex said with a smile. "I'll get those started for you." As Alex walked away, the couple exchanged a glance, a shared moment of anticipation and quiet understanding.

As Alex walked away, Aliya's father raised his glass. "To Dylan and my girl Aliya," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

"To family," Aliya echoed, clinking her glass against her parents' and Dylan's.

The gentle clink of glasses echoed the sentiment, a quiet affirmation of the bonds being formed at the table. The conversation flowed easily, the initial nerves giving way to a genuine connection. Mahindra and Suman shared stories from their own courtship, Aliya's journey from India to the United States, and the challenges they faced in raising her.

The starters arrived promptly, the shrimp glistening with a hint of smoky char, the mushrooms rich and earthy. Aliya's parents sampled the dishes with polite curiosity, their expressions revealing pleasant surprise. "This is quite different," her mother said, her accent gently coloring her words. "But not bad at all."

Dylan exhaled quietly, relief softening the tension in his shoulders. "I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice steady now.

As they progressed through the meal, the conversation flowed more freely. When the main course arrived, the lamb kofta was tender and fragrant, the rice perfectly cooked, each grain separate and fluffy. Aliya's father took a bite, his eyebrows rising in appreciation. "This is very well done," he said, nodding approvingly at Dylan.

The night wore on, and with each passing moment, Dylan felt more at ease. He caught Aliya's eye across the table and saw her silent encouragement, a shared understanding. The tiramisu was a sweet finale, its creamy layers a delightful contrast to the spiced dishes.

As the plates were cleared and the conversation lulled, Dylan knew the moment had arrived. His heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears like the distant roll of thunder. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the small velvet box in his pocket. This was the moment he had been waiting for, planning for.

Aliya's parents, seated at the other end of the table, exchanged knowing glances. They had traveled all the way from India, their presence here more than just a casual visit. Aliya's father, a man of few words but deep emotions, gave a subtle nod, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and apprehension. Her mother's eyes were bright with unspoken hopes, her hands folded neatly in her lap, fingers intertwined in silent prayer.

Aliya herself sat beside Dylan, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity and the first flickers of realization. She sensed something significant was about to happen but hadn't yet pieced it together. She looked at Dylan, a smile playing on her lips, but he could see the question in her eyes.

Dylan stood, his movements deliberate and measured, drawing all eyes to him. The room seemed to hold its breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box, its significance unmistakable in the soft candlelight. The box felt almost weightless in his hand, yet it carried the gravity of his intentions.

"Aliya Dey," Dylan began, his voice steady but thick with emotion. He met her gaze, the intensity of his feelings reflected in his eyes. "You are amazing in every way, from your sweet smile to your adorable dimples and the cute way you scrunch your nose when you're nervous. Even when you're mad, you make me smile. I can't picture my life without you. Will you marry me and make me the happiest guy ever?"

A hush fell over the table, the weight of the question hanging in the air like a tangible presence. The only sound was the faint crackle of the fireplace, adding to the warmth of the room. Aliya's parents watched with bated breath, their faces a tapestry of hope, pride, and concern. Her father's stern exterior softened for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the tenderness beneath. Her mother's lips moved in a silent prayer, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Aliya stared at Dylan, her mind racing. The shock of the moment paralyzed her, rendering her unable to speak. She felt a surge of emotions, each one battling for dominance. In their one-year relationship, they had never even had a significant fight, an oddity that sometimes left her questioning the depth of their bond. Could a relationship truly stand the test of time without the crucible of conflict?

Yet, she loved Dylan deeply. His kindness, his unwavering support, his ability to make her laugh even on her darkest days. He was perfect for her, almost too perfect. The thought scared her – what if this perfection was fragile, unable to withstand the inevitable storms of life? The enormity of the decision weighed on her, and she felt a tremor of fear.

Dylan watched her, his heart in his throat. He could see the conflict in her eyes, the way her hands trembled slightly in her lap. "Please say something, Aliya—my knee is killing me here." Dylan said, his voice tinged with a nervous laugh.

Aliya's father, seated across the table, leaned forward. "Say yes, Aliya. He flew us here just for this." Aliya's gaze flickered to her parents, their faces etched with love and anticipation. The restaurant's dim lighting created a cozy cocoon around them, the murmur of other diners fading into the background. Dylan's eyes, a shade of brown that reminded her of the earth, were fixed on her, filled with a mixture of hope and fear.

Taking a deep breath, Aliya finally found her voice. "Dylan, this is so unexpected. I... I need a moment to process," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She reached up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing against the delicate gold earrings.

Dylan opened the small velvet box, revealing a stunning ruby ring with two small diamonds on each side. The ruby, a deep, rich red, caught the candlelight, casting a soft glow. The diamonds sparkled brilliantly, accentuating the beauty of the central stone.

Dylan, kneeling on the polished hardwood floor, nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and anxiety. "Of course, take your time. I just... I love you, Aliya. I am sorry if I embarrassed you today, with this," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

He started to stand, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but Aliya's hand on his arm stopped him. Without a word, she slipped from her chair and fell to her knees beside him, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders.

"You've always told me to follow my heart," Aliya said, her voice stronger now. "And my heart says yes, Dylan. Yes, I'll marry you."

A cheer erupted from the small crowd that had gathered in the restaurant. The sound seemed to envelop them, a wave of warmth and joy. Aliya's parents sighed in relief, their faces breaking into wide smiles. Suman dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sari, while Mahindra clapped a hand on Dylan's shoulder.

Dylan's eyes filled with tears as he looked at Aliya, disbelief and happiness mingling in his expression. He reached out and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for saying yes."

Aliya smiled through her tears, the weight of the moment settling into her heart. She wrapped her arms around Dylan's neck, pulling him close. Their lips met in a tender kiss, the world around them fading into insignificance.

If you're curious about how I create these images, I use playground.ai and then adjust the faces with Photoshop. You're welcome!