The Proposal

A Coin, a Question, and the Promise to Have and to Hold Forever

---

I remember, it was February. Winter in Germany was heavy. That day, the sky was low and grey, the rain tapping softly but endlessly against the living room glass wall. The wind outside was sharp and unfriendly, the kind of weather that makes you want to stay in and hide under a blanket.

And then he came. He had just traveled from Berlin to Dresden to spend the weekend with me. He walked in carrying warmth with him, that quiet tenderness of his that made the cold outside feel far away. He looked at me with that spark in his eyes and asked me to escape with him to Florence for Valentine’s Day.

In his eyes, I saw it all, the warmth of Italy, the beauty of the city, the dream of us beneath another sky. But my heart was already carrying so much: a new job, a new house, a new country. I was still learning how to belong, how to breathe again. I didn’t want another adventure. I wanted stability, a place to hold onto, a home.

So I met his eyes, smiled softly, and said, “Please, let’s postpone”. Not because I didn’t want another trip, but because I wanted to savor the roots we were starting to grow together. My refusal was devotion: a way of saying I love you enough to wait, to grow, to settle into a place that was truly ours before chasing the next horizon and making sure every journey feels as magical as the one we shared in Venice.

The Promise in His Silence

---

A few months later, maybe three, he said, “Let’s go to Rome.” This time it wasn’t the same situation, not quite. Life was a bit messy, uncertain, but lighter. I was still hesitant, holding onto my wishes, but once again, he found a way to convince me.

While we were preparing for Rome, somewhere along the way, he gave me a hint, not directly, just something in his tone, enough for me to feel it in my gut, but not enough to be sure.

The Journey to Rome

---

June 20th, we landed in Rome, and it was raining.

We stopped first for a drink, sharing a small selection of Italian delicacies, and then made our way to the hotel. A Roman hotel place with soft arches, gilded mirrors, heavy iron doors, and history carved into its walls.

On the way, the rain caught me. My curls fell into a wild mess, but I didn’t mind. We were in Italy, and the air smelled like something good was coming.

Back at the hotel, he asked me to change quickly. Odd. He had cut his long hair the day before, dressed in something new, and even bought me a dress. Somehow, I didn’t see it. I thought it was just one of those small, random gifts we give each other all the time. I planned to wear it the next day, when I’d feel more elegant, more prepared. That night, I only wanted to run fast into Rome. So I put on something humble.

He asked me to change and put on something fancier. He is a man of traditions, so I changed again and put on a simple dress. Then he asked me to put on my orange heels as well: bold, brave, just the way he likes me. Then, I put it all on: my messy curly hair, my excitement, and my happiness for another special night together.

Dinner was at a beautiful restaurant near the hotel. He had noticed it earlier and said, “We’ll come back here later.” Somehow, he had it all prepared. The place was quiet and romantic: the kind of dinner where you feel like the world has narrowed down to just two people.

Afterward, he asked me to go for a walk in heels! In Rome! I complained, obviously, but I followed him, like I always do.

Wishes at the Fontana di Trevi

---

At Fontana di Trevi, the masterpiece made for the whispers of lovers, the hope of believers, and the quiet worshippers of the hidden divine, he handed me a coin and asked me to make a wish together.

I tossed mine too quickly, and he laughed, the way he always does, the kind of laugh that makes everything feel light. Then he stopped me gently, slipped another coin into my palm, and said: “No, wait… let’s do it properly. Make a wish first.”

So I did. He did too. And then, before I even understood what was happening, he turned toward me, lowered himself onto one knee, and pulled a ring from his pocket.

It was right there, in the middle of Rome, with people everywhere: families walking past, couples strolling hand in hand, teenagers taking selfies, street photographers trying to scam tourists. All of them were watching, while I panicked: my heart was racing, my hands shaking, and all I could say was “We’re gonna be on the news.” Over and over, shaking.

For me, a Tunisian woman who grew up with weddings and love always tied to families and tradition, it felt extraordinary. Standing there in the middle of Rome, surrounded by strangers, facing the biggest question of my life, was surreal.

I was shaking, but I also saw everything at once: our whole story, from where we started to everything we had lived through together. It all ran through my mind in seconds. And then he smiled, calm and steady as ever, and whispered: “Sandyana, you haven’t answered me yet.”

Of course, yes, my love. Always yes.

I melted into his chest, trembling and laughing at the same time. Usually, I am the bold one, the loud one. But that day, he carried it all: the calm, the certainty, and the confidence.

Later, I learned he had planned everything with his brother. (Thank you, German.)

That’s us: a little messy, a little extra, and always full of love...

J ♥ S | The Proposal - Fontana di Trevi, Rome, Italy · 20.06.2024