I never imagined I’d be spending Christmas in Chile, let alone as Pedro Pascal’s fiancée. Yet here I am, helping his sister Javiera prepare nachos in their family kitchen while the festive chaos of a Pascal family gathering swirls around us.
“Casandra, mi amor, you don’t have to help with the cooking,” Pedro calls from the living room, where he’s being lovingly interrogated by his aunts and uncles.
“I want to!” I reply in Spanish, making Javiera laugh as I layer the tortilla chips with precision. Growing up in Germany with Korean parents, I never expected Spanish would become one of my most-used languages, but life has a way of surprising you.
“She’s too good for you, sobrino!” I hear Tío Manuel tease Pedro, and I can’t help but smile. The way Pedro’s family has embraced me makes my heart swell. They’ve never once made me feel like an outsider, despite our cultural differences and the 15-year age gap between Pedro and me.
“Ay, Pedro,” his grandmother pipes up, “when are you going to give us great-grandchildren? You’re not getting any younger!”
I pretend to focus on the nachos, but I’m listening intently. Pedro and I have had this conversation privately many times – our shared dream of a family, the timing, the logistics of our careers. At 35, I feel ready. I know he does too, though he tries to play it cool.
“Abuela, por favor,” Pedro groans, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
Javiera nudges me with her elbow. “You know,” she whispers in Spanish, “I’ve never seen my brother this happy. The way he looks at you when you’re not watching – it’s like you hung the moon.”
I feel my cheeks flush. “He’s my moon too,” I reply softly, switching between Spanish and English as naturally as breathing. “Though sometimes he’s more like a supernova.”
The kitchen fills with the aroma of melting cheese as I slide the nachos into the oven. Pedro appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Hiding from your family?” I tease.
“Protecting you from their inappropriate questions about our future children,” he murmurs into my ear.
I turn in his arms, facing him. “I don’t mind,” I say honestly. “I love how invested they are in us.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and I fall in love all over again. “Most women would’ve run screaming from this chaos.”
“Most women haven’t mastered five languages specifically to handle chaos,” I quip, making him laugh.
Later, as the sun sets and the family gathers around the table, I watch Pedro interact with his nieces and nephews. He’s so natural with them, so patient and playful. My heart aches with how much I want this – want him, want us, want everything.
Pedro’s grandfather raises his glass, commanding attention. “To Pedro and Casandra,” he announces in Spanish, his eyes twinkling. “May you give us many beautiful, multilingual babies to spoil.”
“Abuelo!” Pedro protests, but he’s grinning, and his hand finds mine under the table.
“Actually,” I say, my voice steady despite my racing heart, “we might have some news about that soon.” The room erupts in excited chatter as Pedro’s head whips toward me, eyes wide.
“Are you…?” he whispers in English.
“No, not yet,” I whisper back, switching to Korean just for privacy. “But I stopped taking the pill last month. I thought maybe… if you’re ready…”
The look on his face – pure joy mixed with surprise and love – is everything. He kisses me right there at the table, ignoring his family’s whoops and hollers.
“I love you,” he says in all five languages I speak, making me laugh through happy tears.
“Show-off,” I tease. “You’ve been practicing.”
“Well, our kids need to know their mother isn’t the only linguistic genius in the family.”
As the evening winds down, with Pedro’s family chattering excitedly about future possibilities, I rest my head on his shoulder. The universe did send me to him, I think, but not just for him – for me too. For us. For this beautiful, chaotic, multilingual future we’re building together.
“Ready to go home?” he asks softly.
“We are home,” I reply, and I mean it with all my heart.