Chapter 14 - THE PROPOSAL IN SIX LANGUAGES
Z
Luca proposed to Sophia in Budapest.
Not in a ballroom.
Not in front of investors.
Not beneath chandeliers or behind guarded doors.
He proposed in the small courtyard of the apartment building where she'd grown up.
The building had pale yellow walls.
A crooked iron gate.
A chestnut tree beside the entrance.
Sophia had not returned in six years.
Now she stood beneath the branches, looking up at the windows of her father's old study.
Her eyes filled.
“It looks smaller.”
Luca smiled.
“Most childhood places do.”
She nodded.
Then laughed softly.
“My father used to read here.”
She pointed toward a bench.
“He would sit with a newspaper and correct my pronunciation.”
Luca grinned.
“In all six languages?”
“Especially in Hungarian.”
They laughed.
The trip had been Sophia's idea.
She wanted to visit her father's grave.
Reconnect with relatives.
And begin reclaiming the city she'd fled in fear.
Luca had asked if she wanted company.
She'd said yes.
They spent days walking beside the Danube, visiting bookstores, and eating pastries Sophia remembered from childhood.
Luca struggled with Hungarian pronunciation.
Sophia found this endlessly entertaining.
One afternoon, he attempted to order coffee and accidentally asked the waiter for a small horse.
Sophia laughed so hard she nearly cried.
Luca stared.
“What did I say?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing important.”
“Sophia.”
“A horse.”
He closed his eyes.
“I asked for a horse?”
“Very politely.”
They laughed for ten minutes.
On their final evening, Luca brought her back to the courtyard.
The sun was setting.
The chestnut leaves moved in a warm breeze.
Sophia noticed he was nervous.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Luca.”
He sighed.
“You're impossible to surprise.”
She smiled.
“It's a professional condition.”
He took her hands.
“Sophia, the first time I really saw you, you were sitting at my negotiating table wearing a gray uniform.”
She laughed softly.
“You looked furious.”
“I was.”
He smiled.
“Not because you were wrong. Because you made me realize how little I understood about the people around me.”
His expression grew serious.
“I spent years believing power meant being the person everyone obeyed. Then you taught me that real respect begins when people are free to disagree.”
Sophia's eyes filled.
He continued.
“I love your intelligence. Your courage. Your stubbornness. Your terrible jokes about my pronunciation.”
She laughed through her tears.
“I don't want you to disappear into my life. I want to build a life beside yours.”
He reached into his coat.
A small ring box appeared.
Inside was a delicate gold band with a pale blue sapphire.
Sophia covered her mouth.
“Luca.”
He smiled nervously.
“I practiced this in six languages.”
She began laughing and crying.
“Of course you did.”
Then he asked.
In Hungarian.
In English.
In Italian.
In French.
In German.
And finally, in carefully pronounced Russian.
Each version carried the same question.
Will you marry me?
Sophia stared.
Her eyes were full of tears.
Then she smiled.
“Yes.”
Luca froze.
“Which language?”
She laughed.
“All six.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
Then kissed her.
Beneath the chestnut tree where her father once read newspapers, Sophia Varga Bennett finally allowed herself to imagine a future that didn't begin with fear.
And for the first time, Luca Romano's greatest victory had nothing to do with power.
May you like
It was the simple joy of being loved by someone who was free to say no.
And had chosen yes.
