Valentine's Day twilight glowed honey-hued as I stood in the parking lot, clutching the location he'd sent. My phone buzzed: "Look by pillar 3."
My breath caught. Beside pillar 3 sat a new Tesla Model 3—pearl white, its door handles breathing open. A pink note on the windshield bore my name and a lopsided heart.
"Like it?" He was behind me, voice smiling. I collided with his chest, trembling, as cedar from his scarf filled my nose. Circling the car, I traced its curves; pressing the fob, the sunroof slid back, spilling twilight stars inside.
"How'd you know I wanted this range version?" I brushed the Tesla logo, recalling my offhand mention last week—when he'd seemed focused on peeling oranges.
From the trunk, he produced a velvet box: custom plates with our meeting date. "It'll beat me to pick you up after late shifts." Wind carried his words, and I laughed through tears—those overlooked silences were his secret planning.
Slipping in, the screen lit: his pre-recorded voice. "Every Valentine's, let's chase new sunsets in it." The dashboard's range numbers glowed warm, matching the sweet, burning gratitude flooding my chest.
