Where are you taking me?" Hazel asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

Chris flashed a sly grin. "It's a surprise. Come on," he said, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back as he guided her forward.

As they made their way through the lavish corridors of the venue, a man in a crisp suit approached them with a welcoming smile.

"Welcome, Mr. Chris," the manager greeted politely.

"Is everything ready?" Chris asked, his tone firm but calm, giving nothing away.

"Yes, sir. Please, follow me," the manager replied, gesturing for them to proceed.

Hazel glanced at Chris, her unease growing. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to read his expression.

He smirked, clearly enjoying her confusion. "Just wait a little longer."

The manager eventually stopped in front of a grand door and turned to Chris. "Everything is set, sir. Have a wonderful day" he said before excusing himself.

Once the manager was gone, Chris reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold. Hazel's eyes widened as she stared at him.

"What are you planning?" she asked, taking a small step back.

Chris's smirk deepened, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Exactly what you're thinking," he teased, stepping closer.

"Chris," she began, but before she could say more, he gently turned her around.

"Stay still, Hazel," he murmured, his tone low and commanding. She squirmed slightly but froze when his fingers brushed against her hair as he tied the blindfold securely over her eyes.

" What ?" she asked again, her voice tinged with both irritation and nervousness.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against her cheek as he whispered, "Take a guess."

Once satisfied the blindfold was snug, Chris turned her back around, a pleased smile on his face. "Perfect," he said, taking a moment to admire his handiwork.

"Chris, I swear-" Hazel tried to tug at the blindfold, but he gently grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

"Don't," he said firmly, his voice dipping into a tone that made her heart skip a beat. "Just trust me."

Grabbing her hand, he began to guide her forward. Hazel followed hesitantly, her steps unsure as she relied entirely on him.

She heard the creak of a door opening. "Come," Chris urged, leading her inside.

As she stepped in, the scent of roses enveloped her, rich and intoxicating. The air was cool, sending a slight shiver down her spine. But the sound of the door locking behind her made her heart race.

"Chris, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. She tried to lift the blindfold, but he caught her hands again.

"Patience, Hazel," he said smoothly. "Wait here."

She heard him move away, the faint sound of him shuffling something in the room. Her anxiety grew with every passing second.

"Chris, answer me! Don't tell me..." she trailed off, panic lacing her tone.

"Don't tell you what?" he asked, his voice closer than she expected.

She froze. "Are you... are you planning to do something... inappropriate?" she stammered, her cheeks flushing despite her fear.

Chris let out a low, amused laugh, the sound vibrating through her. He moved behind her, his hands brushing against her arms as he leaned close to her ear.

"If I was planning something like that," he whispered, his voice teasing, "you'd know. I'd have used handcuffs "

Her breath hitched as he chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction.

After a moment, he moved in front of her. "Relax, Hazel," he said, his fingers brushing against the knot of the blindfold. Slowly, he untied it, letting the fabric fall away.

Hazel blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. When her vision cleared, she gasped. The room was filled with hundreds of roses, their petals scattered across the floor. Soft candlelight flickered from every corner, casting a warm, golden glow.

........

"Do you like it?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Without answering, she stepped further into the room, her eyes widening in amazement. The entire space was decorated with vibrant red roses intertwined with golden fairy lights, their glow complementing the crisp white walls and furniture.

A delicate path made of rose petals led her to the centerpiece of the room-a table adorned with elegant candles, a bouquet of roses, and an array of dishes. In the middle of the table sat an enormous, beautifully decorated cake.

"What is all this?" she asked, her brows furrowing in curiosity as she turned to face him.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" he replied with a mischievous smile, gently taking her hand and leading her toward the table.

Her eyes landed on the cake, and she leaned in to read the text written in elegant icing. "Happy 3rd Anniversary," she read aloud. Confusion danced in her eyes. "What's this?" she asked, glancing at him.

"It's been three years since I first fell in love with you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Today marks the exact date when I first saw you."

She tilted her head slightly, unimpressed. "So what?" she asked, her tone casual .

His smile faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered. "I've been celebrating this day for the past two years," he confessed, "but I celebrated it alone. I never thought I'd get the chance to celebrate it with you this year."

She crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "Why would you even celebrate something like this? It's not a big deal. People fall in love all the time-some even fall in love every day. Does that mean they should celebrate every day?"

He chuckled softly and stepped closer. "I don't care about others. I celebrate because you have no idea how much this day changed my life. It brought you into it." He paused, his gaze softening. "And you're right-people fall in love every day. I fall in love with you every time I hear your voice, see your face, or catch a glimpse of your smile."

Her cheeks warmed at his words, but she quickly averted her gaze. What a flirt, she thought, trying to hide her growing nervousness.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, tilting his head to study her expression.

"Nothing," she replied, forcing a fake smile.

"Alright then," he said, picking up the knife. "Let's cut the cake."

Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and guided it toward the knife. She hesitated, but his encouraging smile made her give in.

"That's it," he said with a grin as they cut a small piece of the cake together.

He picked up the slice and held it toward her, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Here, have the first bite."

She frowned slightly, unsure.

"Come on, Hazel," he coaxed. "Can't you do just this much for me?"

Letting out a small sigh, she reluctantly leaned forward and took a bite.

A satisfied smile spread across his face. "Now it's my turn," he said, playfully nudging her.

She sighed again, picking up a small piece of the cake. "Alright, fine," she muttered, holding it out to him.

He leaned forward, taking the bite with a grin.

As she wiped her hand clean with a tissue, she caught him watching her with a playful glint in his eyes. She quickly looked away, but the warmth in her chest lingered.

just as she finished, he gently grabbed her right hand and pulled it toward him.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked at him. "What are you doing?" she asked cautiously.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached for a small jewelry box placed on the table and opened it, revealing a delicate bracelet that shimmered under the golden light.

Without a word, he took the bracelet out and moved to slip it onto her wrist. She instinctively pulled her hand away.

"There's no need for this," she said firmly, her tone betraying a hint of unease.

"Hazel," he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of patience and determination. He grabbed her hand again, his touch firm yet gentle.

"You said you would accept my feelings," he reminded her, his eyes searching hers as he attempted to put the bracelet on her wrist.

She pulled her hand back once more, shaking her head. "I said I'd accept your feelings, but I never agreed to gifts," she countered, her voice steady, though her heartbeat quickened.

"These aren't just gifts," he said, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "These are my feelings." His words carried a weight that made her pause as he gently held her hand in place and carefully fastened the bracelet onto her wrist.

Once it was secure, he looked up at her, his expression serious yet vulnerable. " don't throw this away like you did with my other gifts. It'll hurt... a lot," he said, his voice almost breaking at the last word.

His gaze bore into hers, filled with an intensity . For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air around them heavy with unspoken emotions.

Her pulse quickened under his unwavering gaze, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks warming. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she glanced around the room.

........

"the decorations are pretty good," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "But why only red roses?"

His lips curled into a soft smile as he replied, "Because you like red roses."

She raised an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. "And the white walls?"

"Because white is your favorite color," he said without hesitation.

"And the golden candles?" she pressed, tilting her head.

He chuckled. "Because you're allergic to white candles. I didn't want to risk it."

Her lips parted in surprise, and she blinked at him. "You've done a lot of research to win me over, haven't you?" she said, her tone a mix of teasing and genuine astonishment.

"It's not research," he said softly. "It's love."

Her breath hitched at his words, and for a brief moment, she forgot how to respond.

........

"What's that?" she asked, her gaze falling on a painting sitting on the side of the room, partially hidden under a cloth.

Curiosity piqued, she moved toward it and gently pulled the cloth away. The sight beneath left her breath caught in her throat.

It was her painting.

"How is it?" he asked, his voice soft yet eager, watching her reaction closely.

"You made this?" she asked, still staring at the intricate strokes and details that captured her likeness so perfectly.

"Any doubt?" he replied with a small smile, crossing his arms casually, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of nervousness.

"I never knew you were such a good painter," she said, her tone a mix of surprise and admiration.

"I'm not," he replied, his words simple yet filled with meaning.

"Then how did you draw something so beautiful?" she asked, turning to look at him with genuine curiosity.

"Because it came from my heart," he said softly, his eyes locking with hers.

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she quickly looked back at the painting to hide her flustered expression. "Do you know," she said, attempting to lighten the mood, "you're really good with words? You could win hearts easily if you stopped being so possessive. That side of you isn't so... cool."

"Is that so?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. "If I drop that side of me, will you be mine?"

Her lips parted in surprise, but she quickly recovered, shaking her head with a small laugh. "It's not that simple," she replied. "Forget it. Just tell me-what's the story behind this painting? I can't quite pin down which memory this is."

"It's from the first time we met," he said with a soft chuckle, his voice filled with nostalgia. "When you spilled your coffee on me."

She turned to him, wide-eyed. "Are you serious?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded, his smile widening as he saw her reaction.

"That explains why I'm making such an awkward face in the painting," she said with a small laugh, her eyes still on the artwork.

He laughed along with her but then grew quieter, his gaze softening.

"But what made you fall in love with me? That meeting was so embarrassing. What was there to fall in love with?" she asked, genuinely curious now, her voice softer.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Your clumsiness," he said, his voice low but filled with affection. "The way your big, beautiful eyes widened in panic. The way your small, soft hands fumbled to clean the mess. Your sweet, apologetic voice... everything about you . There was everything to fall in love with."

For a moment, the world around them faded, leaving only the intensity of his words and the sincerity in his gaze.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to smile to break the tension. "You're hopeless," she said with a faint laugh, but her heart was racing, and she knew he could tell.

"Come," Chris said, gently grabbing her hand and leading her to the center of the room.

"Chris, what are-" she began, but he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.

"Dance with me," he whispered, his voice soft yet commanding.

Without giving her a chance to argue, he intertwined one of her hands with his, placed her other hand on his shoulder, and slid his free hand around her waist, pulling her close. The sudden proximity made her breath hitch.

"Chris," she tried to speak, her words faltering under the intensity of his gaze.

"Don't," he murmured, his tone almost pleading. "Just let me have this moment."

The soft melody of the music filled the room, a perfect backdrop for the way their bodies moved together, slow and unhurried. His eyes never left her face, drinking in every detail like it was the first time he'd seen her.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent, but her voice came out quieter than she intended.

"Just at how incredibly lucky I am," he said with a soft smile. "To have you here , exactly like I've always dreamed"

"Don't get too carried away. I haven't accepted anything yet," she said, attempting to sound firm.

He chuckled, his expression softening, but there was an unmistakable intensity in his eyes. Without warning, he pulled her closer, their faces now mere inches apart. Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing at the closeness.

"You will," he said, his voice low but steady, each word filled with unwavering determination. "Because there's no way I'm letting you go. No matter what happens, Hazel, you'll always be mine."

His words wrapped around her, leaving her speechless. She wanted to protest, to tell him he was being absurd, but the rapid pounding of her heart betrayed her.

He noticed the faint flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes avoided his, and he couldn't help but smile. Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"My Hazel," he whispered, his voice a blend of tenderness and possessiveness. "All mine."