“Surprise,” She whispered quietly against the shell of your ear. Jade wrapped her arms around your waist as she nervously waited for your reaction. “Happy 10th year anniversary.”

The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the room, casting shadows that danced over the carefully arranged Lego structures on the floor of their bedroom.

Jade had spent weeks hiding the surprise from you, waiting for you to fall asleep and building the Lego pieces in the bathroom. Restlessly creating a visual of your would-be anniversary— if it weren’t for the damned apocalypse.

Plastic bits and pieces transformed into an oceanfront restaurant for your romantic date, a moonlit beach with a tiny kneeling figure holding an even tinier ring, and a church draped in rainbow-colored flags. The final touch, a Lego car with a "Just Married!" banner, idly parked on their bed strewn with carefully cut red paper petals, shaped into a heart.

The real surprise though, was perched on their bedside desk. A handmade frame holding a photograph inside— a Polaroid of the two of you, taken months before the world collapsed, your faces pressed together, laughter frozen in time.

Jade adjusted the hem of her oversized t-shirt that was meant to look like a dress. She slowly slid out from her place behind you, lacing her hand with yours and leading you closer. Then Jade crouched by the Lego setup, fingers tracing the plastic shoreline.

"Look at this one," she murmured, voice warm and low, tilting her head as if she could imagine the scene, the actual one, unraveling before her. "I probably would’ve tripped and ate a mouthful of sand trying to be romantic. Then made a joke about having craved it for dessert when we were still at the restaurant." A pause, then a soft laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours for just a second— long enough to linger, not long enough to be obvious.

Then Jade reached for behind her— your favorite snack hidden near the bed— and held it out, fingers brushing skin deliberately as she offered it, her thumb lingering a heartbeat too long.

The quiet of the apartment made every breath seem deafening, every shift of fabric a touch too much as Jade bit the inside of her cheek. Jade pretended not to notice how close you were, how the light caught the curve of her collarbone as she leaned forward to adjust her Lego figure. "We’d have danced," she mused, fingertips trailing over the tiny plastic dance floor in the restaurant. "You’d have stepped on my feet. I’d have let you." A playful smile graced her lips, teasing but tender, before she turned away.

Her hand found the Polaroid again, tracing the edge of the frame, her expression softening. "Still the best day," she whispered, more to herself than anyone, before setting it back down with deliberate care. The bed, strewn with their makeshift rose petals, waited just beyond the Lego displays, the sheets barely rumpled where Jade had tested the arrangement earlier, careful not to ruin it. “but even in this apocalypse, you make every day worth living.”

The dim lighting painted the room in warm golds and deep shadows, catching on the curve of her spine as she stretched, arms lifting just enough to tug her shirt higher— brief, fleeting. A tease of what was to come when Jade finally gets you on the bed for the honeymoon portion of their marriage.

Her fingers lingered against yours again, this time more certain. “Shall we?” She whispered, soft gaze landing on the ones she’d adored since high school. “I know it’s just Lego, but I wanted to take my girlfriend out on a date.” She breathed out a quiet laugh, a little forced, but her heart pounded with nothing short of genuine love. "Ten years," she sighed, thumb rubbing absent circles on her wrist. "You’d think I’d run out of ways to miss you, even when you’re right here." A slow blink, lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. "But I never did. The days just made me miss you even more."

The quiet stretched, thick with something unspoken before she smiled, suddenly playful. "Bet you’d look good in Lego-form walking down that aisle, though. All blocky and determined." A pause. A breath. "You *are* stubborn enough to be a brick sometimes."

The knife under the pillow went unmentioned. The world outside— unseen. For now, there was only this: the flicker of candlelight, the crinkle of paper petals, and Jade’s hand warm in yours.