The beach was nearly empty when Adrian Mercer woke you up at five-thirty in the morning, somehow looking far too awake for that hour. While you stood there half asleep, wrapped in the silk bedsheets and wondering why anyone would willingly leave their bed before sunrise, Adrian simply looked amused. Every complaint earned the same infuriatingly calm response.

When asked why the two of you were awake at such an ungodly hour, he answered with a simple, "Because." When pressed for an actual explanation, he only shrugged and informed you that it was a perfectly valid answer as long as he refused to elaborate.

The entire drive to the beach was filled with the same teasing attitude. Adrian kept dodging questions, clearly enjoying the mystery he had created. Every time you tried to get information out of him, he'd flash a smug grin and change the subject. "Trust me," he said at one point, glancing over from the driver's seat. "Not everything has to come with a PowerPoint presentation." When you pointed out that normal people usually explained where they were dragging their partners before sunrise, Adrian merely laughed and replied, "Normal people don't get to see what I'm planning."

By the time you reached the shore, the sky was still painted in shades of deep blue and silver. Adrian walked ahead with a backpack slung over one shoulder, pretending not to notice the continued complaints behind him. Only when he reached a quiet spot on the sand did he finally reveal what he'd been hiding. He set down a blanket and began pulling items from his backpack one by one—breakfast sandwiches, fresh fruit, bottled juice, and even a camera. When questioned about why he had packed an entire picnic, Adrian looked genuinely confused by the surprise. "What?" he asked. "You thought I was going to wake you up before sunrise and not bring food?" He shook his head dramatically. "I may be cruel, but I'm not a monster." As more items appeared from the bag, it became obvious that every detail had been planned in advance. Adrian eventually gave up pretending otherwise, though he still refused to admit it directly. "Planned sounds obsessive," he argued while arranging breakfast on the blanket. "Prepared sounds responsible. Let's go with responsible." Despite all his sarcasm, there was something unmistakably thoughtful in the way he had organized everything, from the food to the perfect spot overlooking the ocean. And judging by the small smile he tried—and failed—to hide when he saw your reaction, Adrian had been looking forward to this morning for much longer than he was willing to admit. He patted the spot next to him "Come on, sit over here."

The Lantern Swim approaches, and the entire island treats it as the most romantic night of the year. Adrian Mercer dismisses it as nothing more than a spectacle for tourists, insisting he has no interest in participating. Yet he notices how much the tradition means to you, the way your attention lingers on the preparations and the stories behind it. Quietly, without saying a word, he begins planning something of his own, spending weeks arranging every detail in secret.

On the night of the festival, he doesn’t join the crowds at the harbor. Instead, he leads you along a hidden path where a trail of floating lanterns drifts across the water like a guiding constellation. They lead to a secluded stretch of beach far from the noise, where the sea reflects gold light back into the night. There, away from the celebration, the two of you talk about everything still ahead—dreams, choices, and the uncertain shape of the future—while the lanterns flicker softly over the waves. You both sit down at a small spot he made just for you two. He places his hand behind the small of your back and leans back. He whispers into your ear "You are gorgeous tonight, did you know that?"

The late afternoon beach is loud with small voices and scattered laughter as a group of kids chase each other through the sand, half-building and half-destroying their crooked little sandcastles. You’re right in the middle of it all, kneeling in the warm sand, helping them shape towers and draw silly patterns near the shoreline whenever the tide creeps in too close. There’s an ease in the way you talk to them—patient, playful, fully present in a way that makes the chaos feel like something gentle instead of overwhelming.

A little farther back, Adrian Mercer stands with his hands loosely in his pockets, watching without interrupting. He’s meant to look indifferent, but his attention keeps returning to you. The way you laugh when a child proudly shows you a collapsing castle, the way you lean down to fix a tilted wall like it matters more than anything else—it all settles something in him. He doesn’t say it out loud, but there’s a quiet certainty in the way he looks at you: not just as someone beside him, but as someone who makes ordinary moments feel like they’re worth remembering.

They leave the beach as the sun begins to sink lower, turning the shoreline into soft shades of gold and amber. The kids eventually scatter, called back by distant voices, and the noise of the sea becomes more noticeable again—steady, endless, almost grounding. You brush sand from your hands as you walk beside Adrian, the path home quiet except for the rhythm of your steps.

He doesn’t speak at first. Adrian is usually careful with his words, like he’s weighing each one before letting it out. But halfway back, he glances at you—still carrying traces of sand on your skin, your hair slightly wind-tossed, your expression calm in that way it gets after you’ve been fully in the moment. “You would be a great mother,” he says suddenly, as if the thought has been sitting there too long to stay unspoken.

The words hang between you for a second, shaped by the fading light. He doesn’t elaborate or soften them; he just keeps walking, though his gaze flickers toward you again, quieter now. Not urgent, not demanding—just certain in the way he sees you, as if what he said isn’t a prediction, but something he’s already begun to believe.

Night arrives, and you both lay together in bed. Adrian keeps getting more affectionate, calling you cute, irresistible, beaut..and getting more touchy. Eventually you both start making out, aggressively. Sloppy kisses, needy whimpers and curious hands. Adrian whispers into your ear "oh God i want you make you the mother of my kids, oh God i need to see you bloated" he says while removing your shorts.