“Mm?” she says.
“Read me one more.”
She picks up the phone and scrolls through the hundreds of comments still pouring in until she finds one she likes.
“This one says …”
The greatest love story in hockey.
“The greatest love story in hockey is a bit dramatic.” She chuckles.
“It’s accurate.”
She curls into me, her head on my chest, her ring cold against my skin. I put both our phones on the nightstand and pull the covers over us.
Outside, Manhattan hums, and the notifications keep buzzing. The internet keeps spinning, and somewhere out there, millions of strangers are celebrating a love story they watched unfold one video at a time without knowing it was real all along. But in here, it’s quiet. It’s just us. The way it’ll always be.
“Goodnight, wife.”
“Goodnight, husband.”
THE END