Monday morning dawned gray and brisk, the city a haze of soft rain. Ariel bundled herself in her thickest scarf and made her way to HQ, still feeling warm and fuzzy from the quiet weekend with Holly. She arrived early, logged into her laptop, and was halfway through answering emails when a gentle knock sounded at her office door.
She looked up to see Abigail, her boss, standing in the doorway with a grin that was equal parts mischief and delight.
Ariel squinted at her, mock-suspicious. “You look like you’re up to something.”
Abigail strode in, still grinning, and stopped at Ariel’s desk. “Well, I figured I’d check if my Director of Game Development has any news to share with me this morning.”
Ariel blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… not unless someone pushed a hotfix without telling me?”
Abigail just shook her head, then set her phone gently on the desk in front of Ariel. On the screen was a Twitter post: a photo, snapped in the middle of their café proposal, with Holly standing teary-eyed and Ariel down on one knee. The post was tagged with #WispwoodHaven, #Proposal, and, of course, @WillowboundGames. The caption simply read: “Never seen a trailer reveal end like this before! Congratulations to these two!! ??”
Ariel’s eyes went wide and immediately drifted to the bottom of the post, her breath catching as she saw the numbers: over 8,000 retweets, a waterfall of likes, hundreds of replies and quote-tweets. The post was everywhere. Ariel’s face went pink as a strawberry. She covered her mouth, laughing and embarrassed. “Oh god… That’s… wow. Okay, that’s out there. That’s really out there.”
Abigail tried to look stern, but her grin was unstoppable. “So, Director McIntyre. Anything you want to share with the class before I hear about it from the intern Slack?”
Ariel laughed, still flustered. “Alright, fine. You got me. I, um, proposed to Holly. On Saturday. She said yes.” She bit her lip, still glowing. “I guess I’m engaged now.”
Abigail’s eyes widened with delight and she immediately rounded the desk, enveloping Ariel in a big, genuine hug. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you. And you know, not everyone can say their engagement trended on gaming Twitter.”
Ariel groaned, laughing, and hugged her back. “Please don’t tell the team they’re getting the week off because of my personal life.”
Abigail winked as she pulled away. “No promises. Enjoy your fifteen minutes, Ariel.”
They chatted for a few minutes, Abigail peppering Ariel with questions about the proposal, the ring, and how Holly had reacted.
Abigail looked Ariel in the eyes, smiling. "Seriously, Ariel. I'm so incredibly happy for you. And Holly looks absolutely elated in this picture."
Ariel blushed, "Thanks, Abby. I'm happy too."
Abigail hugged Ariel again before heading out of the office.
The rest of the day was a gentle cascade of love and chaos. Around 10 AM, a producer messaged Ariel: “Just saw you trending, boss! Congrats!”
At lunch, a programmer she rarely talked to pinged her: “That was you in the café proposal post!? Wishing you and Holly all the happiness!”
Every few hours, a new message would pop up. Some were playful: “Guess the Animal Companions weren’t the only big reveal, huh?”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
And others sweet and earnest: “So happy for you two. Hope you both have a lifetime of happiness!”
Ariel replied to each, sometimes with a sheepish emoji, sometimes with a heartfelt thank you.
Sometime mid-afternoon, she pulled the post up on her own phone, stared at the number of retweets and likes, her disbelief mounting. She snapped a screenshot and texted it to Holly:
Ariel: Guess we don’t have to plan our own engagement announcement anymore!
Holly replied almost instantly: I know!! Customers have been congratulating me all day. I had no idea how they knew until Jordan found the post and showed me. You’re officially the most popular nerd in Seattle, Red!
Ariel laughed, cheeks warm as she read Holly’s message, her heart fluttering with that strange, giddy delight at being so celebrated, even by strangers.
She spent the rest of the afternoon answering a few more messages, fielding congratulations, and, when things finally quieted down, watching the rain bead against her window with a secret, growing smile.
At five, she packed up her laptop, slipped on her scarf, and left the office for home, still blushing every time she remembered the look on Abigail’s face.
Tonight, she thought, would be for just her and Holly, and the start of sharing their good news with the world, one happy ripple at a time.
By the time Ariel made it home, the rain had turned to a gentle drizzle, city lights blurring gold and white through the windows. She kicked off her shoes in the entryway and was greeted by the warm, savory aroma of takeout; something garlicky and rich with the promise of comfort food.
Holly was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, laying out boxes and little containers across the dining table. She looked up at the sound of the door and grinned, her whole face lighting up. “Welcome home! Did you get swarmed by admirers on the way home?”
Ariel dropped her bag, cheeks still pink from the day’s barrage of congratulations. “Don’t you start,” she groaned, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You wouldn’t believe how many people messaged me today. The entire company knows we're engaged now.”
Holly gestured at the table, which was rapidly filling up. “That’s because you are officially a celebrity, Red. We’re talking trending topics and everything. Jordan kept sending me screenshots all day.” She winked, then pointed at the food. “I figured you deserved a little celebratory feast. I got your favorite. Honey garlic chicken, scallion pancakes, and extra dumplings, just how you like.”
Ariel’s eyes widened as she pulled out a chair. “You’re the best. If you keep this up, I might just marry you.”
Holly waggled her eyebrows, sliding into the seat across from her. “You better. Otherwise, I’m eating all the dumplings myself.”
They dug in, passing boxes and chopsticks back and forth, the quiet between them soft and comfortable. Outside, the rain pattered steadily; inside, the only sounds were the clink of plates and occasional giggles as Ariel tried (and failed) to pick up a dumpling with too-small chopsticks.
After a few bites, Ariel set her chopsticks down and shook her head, incredulous. “I still can’t believe how much traction that post got. Thousands of retweets, comments from total strangers...Abigail even joked about my ‘fifteen minutes of fame’ at work.”
Holly laughed, squeezing Ariel’s hand across the table. “I know! I had people congratulating me at the counter all morning. I was starting to wonder if I’d accidentally worn the ring on my forehead. It wasn’t until Jordan found the post that it all made sense.”
Ariel rolled her eyes, still smiling. “At least it’s a cute photo. You look like you’re about to cry and I look like I’m about to faint.”
Holly’s grin softened. “I was about to cry. And you? You looked perfect, Red. And honestly, I’m glad the world gets to see us just the way we are.”
Ariel blushed, popping another scallion pancake in her mouth to cover her smile. “It’s weird. Part of me feels so seen, but part of me just wants to keep you all to myself.”
Holly’s eyes sparkled, genuine and loving. “You can have me all to yourself tonight, deal?”
“Deal,” Ariel replied, mouth curling up. “But only if you agree to be my plus-one for every future trending post.”
Holly pretended to consider. “As long as I get credit for every cute photo.”
They both laughed, the sound filling the apartment. The conversation drifted from wedding daydreams (“If you think I’m wearing heels, you’re delusional,” Ariel quipped), to Lila and Marissa’s burgeoning (“Apparently Lila is making her own cookies now, just in case…”), to the gentle hum of contentment that came from sharing food and plans at the same table.
When they finished, Ariel leaned back with a happy sigh, feeling both full and entirely, impossibly lucky.
“Best engagement dinner ever,” she said, and Holly leaned over the table to kiss her, sweet and lingering, sealing the end of an extraordinary day.
