The Chilean summer sun cast long shadows across the courtyard of the Pascal family home as laughter and the aroma of traditional cooking wafted through the air. Pedro leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching Casandra expertly fold empanadas alongside his sister Javiera, their animated Spanish conversation punctuated by occasional giggles.
“¿Dónde encontraste a este ángel, Pedro?” his aunt María called out, making him smile sheepishly.
“Hollywood,” he replied, “though sometimes I think she found me.”
Casandra looked up, her eyes meeting his with that sparkle that never failed to make his heart skip. “I heard that,” she said in perfect Spanish, though her slight German-Korean accent added an endearing lilt to her words.
“Mi amor, you hear everything,” Pedro chuckled, moving to wrap his arms around her waist from behind.
“¡La comida!” Javiera playfully swatted at him with a kitchen towel. “Let her finish helping me first, hermanito.”
Their grandmother appeared in the doorway, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Pedro, when are you going to give me great-grandchildren? Casandra isn’t getting any younger, and you…” she paused for dramatic effect, “well, let’s just say you’re not getting any younger either.”
“Abuela!” Pedro groaned, while Casandra burst into melodious laughter.
“Don’t worry, Señora Pascal,” Casandra said, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m working on him.”
The entire kitchen erupted in approving whoops and hollers, making Pedro’s ears turn red. He tugged Casandra away from the cooking, ignoring his family’s protests.
“Save me from them,” he whispered, leading her to the quiet garden.
Casandra switched to English, her voice soft. “Your family is wonderful, Pedro. They remind me of my mom’s side in Seoul – always feeding you, always asking about babies.”
“Speaking of babies,” Pedro said, suddenly serious as they sat on the old wooden bench beneath the lemon tree. “They’re not entirely wrong, you know. About timing.”
Casandra turned to face him, tucking one leg beneath her. “Are you having a midlife crisis on me, Pascal?”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “But mostly I’m having a ‘I don’t want to waste any more time’ crisis.”
“You’re cute when you’re existential,” she teased, then switched to German: “Mein Schatz.”
“Show-off,” he laughed, then grew serious again. “Remember that night in New York, when we talked about having kids?”
“Of course. You said you wanted three, I said two was plenty, and we compromised on ‘we’ll see.'”
Pedro took her hands in his, marveling at how perfectly they fit together despite their size difference. “I’ve been carrying something around for a few weeks now,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I was waiting for the perfect moment, but I’m realizing there’s no such thing. There’s just us, and this crazy, beautiful life we could have together.”
Casandra’s eyes widened as he produced a small velvet box. “Pedro…”
“Wait, let me do this properly,” he said, sliding off the bench to one knee. “I love how you can curse in five languages but choose to be kind instead. I love how you’ve charmed every single member of my crazy family. I love that you’re brilliant and beautiful and somehow still think my dad jokes are funny.”
“They’re terrible,” she interjected, tears gathering in her eyes.
“They are,” he agreed with a grin. “But you laugh anyway. Casandra Lee, will you marry me and make terrible jokes with me for the rest of our lives? Maybe raise a few multilingual children who will definitely make fun of their old dad?”
“Yes,” she whispered, then louder in Spanish: “¡Sí, por supuesto que sí!”
As he slipped the ring onto her finger, applause erupted from the house. Their entire family had gathered at the windows and doorway, watching the scene unfold.
“They were all in on it, weren’t they?” Casandra asked, laughing through her tears.
“Every last one of them,” Pedro confirmed, pulling her close for a kiss. “The empanadas were just a distraction.”
“You sneaky Pascals,” she murmured against his lips.
His grandmother’s voice carried across the garden: “¡Ahora, los bebés!”
Pedro groaned while Casandra dissolved into giggles. “One step at a time, Abuela!” he called back, but as he looked at his fiancée’s radiant face, he couldn’t help but imagine their future children running through this very garden, speaking a beautiful mixture of Spanish, Korean, German, and love.