“Thank you, James,” I replied, trying to muster a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the quiet punctuated only by the rhythmic patter of raindrops. I found myself studying James, seeing him not just as the neighbor I had known for years, but as the man I had agreed to share my life with. His face, framed by a head of unruly hair, bore lines of both hardship and kindness.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, breaking the silence. His question was direct, yet asked with such gentleness that it felt as though he was speaking to my very soul.