She exhales, her lips parting like she wants to say more, but instead, she lowers her gaze to the box, running her fingers over the elegant wrapping.
She unwraps it slowly, with painstaking care.
When she finally lifts the lid of the box, she stills.
A vintage Patek Philippe watch gleams up at her, cradled by a plush red velvet cushion.
I watch as her fingers trace over the smooth, sunburst midnight-blue dial, the gold bezel catching the dim light.
“Nathaniel…” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “This is?—”
“Yours,” I cut in, firm. “I had it restored for you.”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “Really?”
I nod, watching her reaction closely. “Yes. It took a while to find the right one, but when I saw this, I knew it had to be yours.”
I spent a long time searching, unwilling to settle for something impersonal or extravagant for extravagance’s sake. Olivia isn’t someone who cares for status symbols. I wanted something meaningful—something that carried weight, history.
When my jeweler called to tell me that he had found an original 1970s model of the Golden Ellipse at an auction in Europe, I took one glance at that blue dial and knew that the search was over.
But beyond that, I also appreciate how the watch’s design follows the golden ratio, a principle of harmony and balance—qualities Olivia has unknowingly brought into my life.
I then spent weeks personally overseeing the restoration of the timepiece, sparing no expense. I wanted it to beperfect, just for her, so I made sure to include one additional detail.
She picks it up and turns it over, her thumb grazing the back of the case and finding the engraving:Until the end of time —NC
Her breath hitches. When she looks up at me again, I hold her gaze, unflinching.
“I will love you forever, Olivia,” I tell her. “Every hour and every second that I have left in me is yours.”
Her lips tremble, her throat working as she swallows.
“May I?” I ask, reaching for the watch.
She nods. “Please.”
I take it from her hands, my fingers steady as I fasten the strap around her delicate wrist. It fits just right.
Olivia lets out a small, incredulous laugh. “Of course it’s the perfect size.”
Her laughter is warm, filling the space between us as I brush my thumb over the watch face, then over her skin.Mine.
Just as I’m about to pull her into my arms, Olivia’s eyes suddenly light up with somethinggleeful.
“Wait,” she says, standing abruptly. “I have something for you too.”
I go still.
I wasn’t expecting anything. People ask things of me all the time, always taking. But here she is, looking at me with barely contained excitement, as if giving me something is the greatest gift of all.
She steps away, moving toward the bookshelf with a knowing glint in her eyes. Over her shoulder, she throws me a playful smile. “But you have to find it.”
A challenge. Of course.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I feelexcitement.
My eyes scan the shelves, flicking over familiar spines—the books of my childhood, the ones I’ve reread countless times. Then, I see it.A book, wrapped beautifully, nestled between the others. Carefully, I pull it down, unwrapping it with uncharacteristic care, as if I already know that what lies inside isn’t just paper and ink.
