The wedding preparations hummed along smoothly, a delicate dance of orchestrating a celebration that reflected the simplicity and intimacy we desired. One week after Christmas was chosen for the big day, a time when the air was still adorned with the magic of the festive season. I insisted on a small, intimate affair, surrounded by the people dearest to us. Florian and my dad, both understanding my preference for simplicity, embraced the idea wholeheartedly. The wedding will take place in the royal garden.

As the days ticked away, Florian's excitement and love manifested in every detail. His eyes lit up as he spoke about the arrangements, his love for me evident in the thoughtful choices he made. The anticipation of starting a new chapter together radiated between us, a shared joy that fueled the preparations.

One afternoon, as I sat in quiet contemplation, Florian's familiar voice broke through the silence.

 "What's my wife thinking all alone here?" he whispered, his warm breath brushing against my ear as he pulled me in for a gentle kiss. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a surge of gratitude for the love that surrounded me.

"I am counting my blessings," I replied, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug. 

The simplicity of our love, the shared dreams, and the journey we had undertaken together formed the foundation of the joy that filled my heart.

"Come with me, I want to show you something," Florian suggested, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. We strolled hand in hand until we reached a small alley with a row of old houses. Despite their rusty appearance, the street was impeccably clean, adorned with bursts of colorful flowers.

Florian stopped in front of one particular house, weathered by time but standing with an air of resilience.

 "This was my childhood house. Come inside; I want to show you something," he invited, unlocking the door.

As we stepped into the simple yet impeccably clean interior, my eyes traced the remnants of Florian's past. 

"Do you still come here?" I asked, curiosity sparking in my eyes.

"No, but I pay a lady to clean the house thrice a week," Florian confessed, his smile carrying a hint of nostalgia. 

In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of his childhood, I felt a deeper connection to the man I was about to marry. The simplicity of the gesture spoke volumes about Florian's commitment to preserving the essence of our love story amidst the hustle and bustle of wedding preparations. The visit to Florian's childhood home became a cherished memory, a testament to the roots that had shaped him. As we left the house, hand in hand, the anticipation for our simple yet profound wedding day grew stronger, each moment adding to the tapestry of our shared journey.

"Here," Florian said, handing me a small wooden box before disappearing into the makeshift kitchen to prepare lunch. The scent of fresh vegetables filled the air as he hummed a tune, adding to the nostalgic ambiance of his childhood home.

"Can I go to your room?" I asked shyly, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity about this intimate glimpse into Florian's past.

"Of course, Princess," he replied, leading the way to his room. 

The room, simple yet filled with warmth, bore witness to the chapters of his life. A picture of him and his father hung by the window, casting a soft glow on the room that echoed with memories. As I settled onto his childhood bed, I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me, my mind wandering to my own childhood. The wooden box, nestled in my hands, held a promise of hidden treasures. I opened it, revealing a collection of letters neatly stacked inside. The letters, each a testament to Florian's thoughtfulness, bore witness to his emotions and the journey of our love. As I read the words he had penned down for me, my heart quickened, and a warmth spread through me. The sincerity in his expressions painted a vivid picture of his love, creating a profound connection between our hearts.

Florian returned, a plate of freshly sliced pineapple in hand, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

 "How's it?" he asked, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

"When did you write those?" I managed to inquire, my voice filled with a mix of surprise and affection.

"It's a secret," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes before pulling me into a warm embrace. The simplicity of the moment, surrounded by the echoes of his past and the love he had preserved in those letters, overwhelmed me.

"Bella, I love you," he whispered softly, the words creating a gentle melody that resonated within the room. In that intimate space, surrounded by the whispers of the past and the promises of the future, our love blossomed like a cherished symphony, each note a testament to the beauty of our shared journey.

''I love you too Florian''

The soft glow of afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue in Florian's childhood room. As we sat on his bed, the air was filled with a delicate combination of nostalgia and the sweet scent of fresh pineapple. Florian's eyes held an affectionate gleam as he observed me, his love evident in every gaze and every touch.

"I want to show you something else," Florian said, his voice laced with anticipation, breaking the comfortable silence that enveloped us. 

He retrieved a second surprise from the wooden box – a delicate necklace with a golden heart-shaped pendant. The pendant sparkled in the sunlight, and my heart fluttered at the sight of the thoughtful gift.

"I wanted to give this to you on our wedding day, but I couldn't wait," Florian confessed, his fingers gently securing the necklace around my neck. 

As the pendant rested against my skin, I felt a profound connection, a symbol of our love and the moments that had led us to this very place. The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming charged with an intimate and romantic energy. Florian's eyes met mine, and in that gaze, I found a reflection of the shared dreams, laughter, and unspoken promises that had woven the fabric of our love story. As we sat together, the room became a sanctuary of emotions, a space where time seemed to stand still. The whispers of Florian's childhood tales, the picture on the wall, and the exchanged glances created a symphony of love that resonated in the heart.

Florian's arms encircled me, pulling me into an embrace that felt like a dance, slow and tender. The simplicity of the room, adorned with memories, became the backdrop for a romantic interlude. The air was charged with the unspoken words that lingered between us, and the intimacy of the moment seemed to transcend the boundaries of time. As we left the room hand in hand, the necklace shimmering against my skin, the magic of the moment lingered. The love we shared, wrapped in the simplicity of Florian's childhood haven, became a cherished memory that would forever reside in the chapters of our shared story.

"I'm hungry; what did my puddlebear cook for lunch?" I asked with a playful pout and a set of puppy eyes. Florian chuckled at my endearing nickname for him.

"He made glazed sour sweet tofu, bamboo shots and beetroot salad, bok choy and beef sauté, and brown rice," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice as he helped me to sit down and started serving the delectable array of dishes.

The table was adorned with an assortment of vibrant colors and fragrant aromas. The glazed tofu glistened, the beetroot salad was a riot of colors, and the bok choy and beef sauté promised a savory treat. The brown rice, perfectly cooked, completed the wholesome feast.

"This looks really delicious," I exclaimed with genuine excitement, my taste buds tingling with anticipation. Florian's culinary skills never failed to amaze me.

"You are truly gifted," I praised him as I picked up my chopsticks and took the first bite. 

The flavors danced on my palate, a perfect balance of sweet, sour, and savory. The glazed tofu melted in my mouth, and each dish complemented the others in a delightful symphony.

Florian beamed at my enjoyment, his eyes reflecting the joy of seeing someone he cared about relishing the meal he had prepared. As I savored each bite, he leaned in to steal a quick kiss, making the simple lunch feel like a romantic culinary experience. Encouraged by his culinary success, I decided to reciprocate. 

"Let me serve you," I said, taking the chopsticks and beginning to plate his portion. The act of sharing a meal, a gesture of love and care, created a warm and intimate ambiance.

As we continued to enjoy the delicious lunch in Florian's childhood home, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the promises of our future, the simple act of sharing a meal became a celebration of our love – a love that found expression not only in grand gestures but also in the small, everyday moments that we cherished together.

"I want to stay here with you tonight. I want to know you more; I know so little about you yet I love you so much," I expressed, my voice carrying a blend of sincerity and longing. 

As we washed the dishes together, the warm water creating a comforting soundtrack to our conversation, Florian's eyes met mine with a mixture of surprise and joy.

"Alright, but we need to go shopping. I brought vegetables for lunch only," he said, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. 

The idea of spending the night together felt like an intimate adventure, and the prospect of learning more about Florian excited me.

"Sure," I replied, my heart fluttering at the thought of an impromptu shopping trip. As I wiped off the last of the dishes, I marveled at the simplicity and charm of Florian's house. It was small, yet every corner exuded warmth and welcome.

The walls, adorned with modest decorations and family photographs, told a story of Florian's journey. I found myself drawn to a framed picture capturing a moment of his childhood, a snapshot frozen in time. It was a glimpse into his past, a past that had shaped the man I had come to love. Florian led me through the cozy rooms, each holding a piece of his history. His childhood bed, the familiar picture by the window, and the subtle scents that lingered in the air created an ambiance of familiarity and intimacy. The house may have been small, but it felt like a sanctuary, a place where memories were preserved and new ones were waiting to unfold.