Mood: tap the media box above and enjoy the tunes of Stevie Wonder's You are the Sunshine of My Life. Enjoy this timeless song!

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
— Winston Churchill

"Hey, where is Sven?" I asked Walt, as I approached him. Determination fired in my eyes.

"Oh, he was just over here, but he went to look for you, I think. You may want to try the dance area near the band. He headed that way," Walt answered.

"Okay. If he comes back, tell him I'm trying to find him," I instructed.

"No problems, Ma'am," Walt saluted me, waving two fingers from his forehead.

As I cut my way through the lavish circle of high society, I noticed an attractive, tall, dark-haired beauty whispering into Sven's ear near the dance area. She caressed his jaw, then pulled her head back in flirtatious laughter.

Fucking hell, not again, I thought.

Right at that point, Sven's eyes locked with mine in bewilderment. I turned away and sprinted from the crowd, to a place on top of the mountain that served as both my challenge and my sanctuary.

"Eva, wait!" I heard Sven's voice call after me, but it only triggered me to pick up the pace and walk hurriedly to the gazebo, which looked out to the entire city.

"EVA!" Sven's lungs gave out, but I kept marching.

I didn't turn back, and was determined to take the challenge, as I reached the gazebo.

I breathed heavily, while taking in the cool breeze, and absorbed the wondrous sight of my home city. My fingers nervously tapped the gazebo railing.

I was on a mission: to conquer my fear.

My heart raced as I faced my fear of heights, which I suffered for years. This exhilarating feeling of being on top of the world was liberating. I needed to be here and to do this alone.

However, I was not alone. I felt a male presence behind me, and the wind brought me the familiar scent of him.

"Eva, turn around and look at me," Sven's voice begged.

"Sven, I..." I faltered and was lost for words. I had never felt so vulnerable in my life, yet, I was at the top of the mountain, with my heart racing as I saw the city.

"I was looking for you, and this woman... She asked me to dance with her, but I said I was with my woman," Sven explained.

"She laughed at me because I said 'no'. There was absolutely nothing going on my part, I swear." His eyes revealed he was telling the truth. They stared straight into mine, and there were no lies in them.

"Sven, I understand. I'm here to conquer my fear of heights." I rubbed my arms and gazed at the city lights.

"Oh?" Sven leaned forward on the railing.

"See the view?" I pointed out.

"Yes, it's beautiful," Sven claimed, staring at the city in awe.

"It's beautiful but at the same time, it scares me. I feel like I'm losing control and balance. I'm scared of falling," I confessed.

"I also have a fear of failing." I had just exposed my rawest and deepest vulnerability. There were no walls here tonight. Just pure honesty.

"We all fail from time to time. Real failure is when we don't get up to try again." Sven took me in his arms and gently ran his fingers down my face to my neck.

"Sven, I failed tonight."

"How? What has my woman done to fail?" Sven's eyebrows furrowed.

"I didn't get the transfer. It only leaves us with one option," I replied.

I then bowed my head, went down on bended knee, and looked up at Sven.

"Sven Peter Hansen, I love you. Would you do the honor of being my husband?" I held out my right hand as an offering, with a gold ring pinched between my index finger and thumb. He took the ring and tried placing it on his wedding finger.

Oops. Wrong size. It was too small.

"Oh crap!" I blushed. "We can get it resized."

"Don't worry, my love," Sven chuckled, placing the ring in his pocket. He took my hand and pressed it with his as our eyes met.

There we were, two individuals under the gazebo on top of a mountain, with the world at our feet.

Sven lifted me up, his head bent down to touch mine, then whispered in my ear, "Eva, I have a surprise for you."

He then let me go, pulled out a delicate, black velvet box, stooped down and bent his knee.

"I will marry you if you accept my love." He opened the box, and there shone two simple gold wedding bands.

"Sven..." I was taken back by his surprise.

"One is for you, and the other is mine," he prompted.

"Yes, Sven. I accept your love," I declared.

"Eva King, jeg elsker deg," he continued, as he stood up.

"Say, what?" I had no idea what he just said.

Sven just stared at me, with devotion, while stroking my face and hair.

"Sven, what does 'yay esket dai' mean?" I asked, as I took the smaller ring.

"It means 'I love you'," he murmured, as he helped me slide the ring into my third finger.

I reciprocated the act by taking the bigger ring and placing it through the same finger on his left hand.

He chuckled, cupped his hands on my jaw, and pressed his tender lips on mine.

"Jeg elsker deg," he breathed into me, and repeated the words again.

Jeg elsker deg.

At that moment, the band started playing You Are the Sunshine of My Life, a Stevie Wonder hit from the years gone by.

"Eva, would you care to dance with me? It would mean the world to dance with you," Sven asked.

"Sven, I would be honored," I declared.

My body pressed against his and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, while his hands played with my hips, moving my body with his to the old song.

We began to sway to the nostalgic melody of the timeless classic under the gazebo, with the stars above us and the world beneath us.

"I know we've only been together for a couple of months, but I feel that we've been connected for a lifetime," Sven said.

"Me too, darling." I rested my head on his chest, while listening to the thuds of his beating heart.

I was dancing with the sunshine of my life, and yes, Sven can really dance. He told me once that his mum signed him up for dance lessons to boost his confidence in high school.

As the song drew to an end, I noticed a dainty woman step out of a shadowy corner of the gazebo.

She was an elegant lady in her mid seventies, with freshly clipped cotton white hair. She wore a gorgeous sequined, black cocktail dress that spilled down to just below her knees.

"You both make such a lovely couple," the elderly intruder chirped.

"Thank you," I replied, snuggling into Sven's arms, while he gently caressed my back.

"You know, I married my husband only four months after we met. I just knew he was the one for me." She chuckled, emitting a charming, youthful gleam in her eyes.

"Everyone said that we wouldn't last. He was from Sweden, on a working holiday to shear sheep in western Queensland. It was, what  you call, a whirlwind romance," she went on.

"How long were you together for?" I asked.

"Oh, sweetie. We were together for over forty years," the mystery woman responded.

"Wow," was the only word Sven could manage to muster. I was speechless.

"He passed away from cancer five years ago," she said.

"I would trade all the wealth this world has given me just to see Oliver again for one more day, one more hour, or even one more moment." She smiled sadly, looking intently at us.

The woman paused, patted her heart, and smiled again. She was missing something, or rather, someone.

"If only I could spend another lifetime with him, I would do it all over again," she spoke softly.

My eyes filled up with tears, as I listened to her words. I peered at Sven and my heart ached at the thought of not ever seeing him again. The pain of losing him was far worse than giving up my job at Hudson, which seemed so insignificant at that point.

"You both remind me of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. As a teenager, I dreamed to dance with a dashing man as handsome and as agile as Astaire," the woman exclaimed.

The band started playing another classic—this time it was a Nat King Cole song, L-O-V-E, which I felt was appropriate for what I was about to ask Sven to do.

"Darling, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I smiled, and Sven nodded his head knowingly.

"Madam, would you care to dance with me?" My sweet fiance asked our friendly intruder.

"I would be honored," she replied, holding out her arm for Sven to take, and to lead their dance under the starry night.

It was a beautiful sight, to see this endearing dance. I saw a young woman dancing with Sven; a woman who enjoyed life to the fullest and was not afraid to take risks.

Who knows what risks could lead to? Yes, there was failure, but whatever didn't kill us would only make us stronger, right?

As the song came to an end, I noticed the Mayor of Brisbane, Grace Nielson, walk to us.

"Excuse me, Mum, are you alright? Marianne and I have been looking all over the place for you," Grace questioned our mystery lady, while glancing at Sven and me.

"I hope my mother hasn't been too much of a bother on either of you," Grace said apologetically.

"Oh no, not at all," I chirped. It was an honor to converse with a woman of inspiration.

"This lovely young gentleman asked me to dance, Grace! It has been years since I last danced," Grace's mum gushed.

"My name is Eva King, and this is my fiance, Sven Hansen." I introduced myself and Sven to the mayor.

"I have to apologize, it was terribly rude of me not to personally introduce myself. I'm Grace Nielson, and this is my mother, Ann," she replied, extending her hand to shake Sven's hand and my hand.

"Thank you for dancing with my mother, Sven. This has really made her evening," Grace continued.

Just then, a photographer for The Courier Mail, an Australian newspaper, walked to us, introduced herself, and asked if she could take some photos of us.

We happily obliged, allowing the photographer to take happy snaps of Sven, myself, Mayor Grace Nielson, and her mother, Ann.

The next day, Sven and I ate croissants and drank coffee for breakfast while skimming through The Courier Mail.

"Honey, take a look at this!" Sven's eyes gleamed with excitement as he showed me the screen on his laptop.

The headline read:

Brisbane Mayor Shines Among Stars at Annual Corporate Ball

The main photo for the feature , which included a carousel of more photos, was the one of the mayor herself with her mother, Sven, and me.

We had made the front page news.

A/N: Has anyone ever told you the words "I love you" in another language? What is the most romantic language to say "I love you"?

This chapter is dedicated to everyone. Be bold, and do not be afraid of who you are. Be proud. Love others. Most importantly, love yourself. As Eva says, there will be no pity parties!