Will you?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKTF1ggnfjU

“The Proposal”

In the heart of the old woods, where stories gathered like fog and never quite left, a girl with silver-light hair sat beneath a maple tree. Her dress caught sunlight like memory, and her eyes had that kind of softness that made even spiders pause in their weaving.
Two rats traveled with her — not ordinary rats, but small keepers of wonder. The male one, jittery with devotion, had spent weeks rolling the grape just right. It had to be perfect — not too ripe, not too sour. He tied a delicate silver chain to his tail, a loop of promise, the tiniest engagement ring the forest had ever seen.
The girl cradled him in her palm like a secret wish. He squeaked once, then lifted the grape.
The other rat — sleek and still, resting on the girl's shoulder like a winter scarf — blinked slowly. She didn’t move right away. Her whiskers twitched.
The forest held its breath.
A breeze lifted the leaves above them. A ribbon fluttered. A spider spun a new thread, as if to stitch this moment into time.
Then: a nuzzle. A pink nose to a pink nose. She accepted the grape.
And in that hush, the girl smiled.
No fireworks. No trumpets. Just love, quiet and shy, unfolding in the lap of someone kind enough to hold it.
Later, the rats would build a nest together. The grape would be shared. The necklace, eventually lost in moss, would become part of a beetle’s crown. But the memory? It stayed.
Some say if you wander deep enough into the woods and sit very still, you’ll hear a tiny voice ask:
"Will you?"
And something in your heart will answer:
"I already do."

By Nova