The rest of the winter seemed to fly by in a pleasant haze. Every day was nearly the same, and yet Leah greeted each morning with a giddy feeling pressing insistently at the inside of her chest, reminding her, you get to see Vesper today. And she never got tired of it.

She'd never had this before. Never felt so strongly about someone else; never gotten so excited at the prospect of simply seeing their face and hearing their voice. Never thought about them day and night and even in her dreams.

And she knew she was being silly. She knew this was probably just a hallmark of a healthy relationship. Knew this feeling would probably fade. That she'd probably, eventually, be able to face her partner without feeling her heart leap and her face burn. But for now, she was on cloud nine.

And Vesper was coming over tonight.

Vesper came over on most nights, in all fairness. She would make any excuse to visit, no matter how far-fetched (no matter that she didn't need one at all), but today's was especially warranted.

Today was New Year's Eve.

Before now, celebrating the new year had always been something of a chore for Leah rather than a pleasure. She'd never really understood why people got so excited about what ultimately amounted to just another day. The new year wasn't really some fresh start; people didn't really change. Things never really changed. Not for Leah, anyway. So she had never gotten her hopes up about some silly man-made milestone; never really enjoyed all the rigamarole that came with it.

Until now.

Now, things really had changed. Leah really had had a fresh start, sort of. At least, she felt like a different person than she was a year ago. So many things were different, and all for the better. This new year, Leah felt like celebrating.

And luckily, so did Vesper.

"I brought dinner," the farmer announced as Leah let her into her cottage that evening, a basket hung in the crook of her elbow. Her bulky black winter coat was zipped up to her chin and her nose shined pink with the chill that followed her inside. She went immediately to the table and started to unpack her bounty. "What better way to ring in the new year, huh?"

"Oh, I can think of one," Leah joked, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her lip suggestively as she shut the door behind her visitor. When Vesper shot her a mock stern glance, she let the farce fall. She crossed to the farmer's side and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Really, though. This is lovely. Thanks, Vesper."

The other woman paused in arranging their meal to press a kiss to Leah's brow. "Anything for you, flower."

Even after all the time they'd spent together—all the things they'd done together—little comments like that still made Leah's heart stumble and her ears burn. She faltered, trying to come up with a suitable response, but Vesper was always better at that sort of thing than her. Being so open. Being so loving. Leah cleared her throat, her scrambling mind searching for something to focus on, and landed on the food. That was something she could talk about without embarrassing herself, right? She took in the rapidly growing spread: the salad, the goat cheese, the muffins—all her favorite things. Except— "No wine tonight?"

"Nope," replied Vesper. "I'd rather experience tonight sober." Her voice when she said it was warm, low, like there was some meaning behind it that Leah didn't understand, and she kept her eyes down so it was impossible to get a clue as to what it might be.

Leah gave her side a squeeze and decided to be direct. "Oh? What makes tonight so special?"

"It's a surprise." Vesper's cheek dimpled as she smiled to herself.

Leah let out a little sigh. That was fine; she could wait. It was only a matter of how long. Even now, she could feel the impatient little kid in her bouncing on her toes, wondering what Vesper could mean. But she wouldn't pry. She would be a mature young woman and hold her tongue until her partner was ready to share.

No problem.

They talked casually enough over dinner. She loved everything Vesper made, and it was easy for her to get lost in enjoying the food instead of fishing for secrets. She asked the farmer about her day, which was always a tossup between mundane chores and frightening supernatural experiences, and Vesper asked her about her day, which was usually full of art. That was one side effect of being content with her life, Leah had found: it became really easy to make art. She just saw so much beauty everywhere now. Plus she had a gorgeous muse, too.

Leah found herself saying less and less as the conversation continued on into the evening. It was more enjoyable just to sit there and watch Vesper animatedly explain her plans for the farm: how well her goats were doing, how much she'd expanded her viable cropland. The shine in her amber eyes was enough to warm Leah's heart, and the way she grinned in undying optimism was just so charming. Leah could look at her forever; hear her talk forever.

How did I ever get this lucky?

It was only when Vesper faltered to a halt, blushing, that Leah realized she'd spoken aloud. She stiffened instantly, opening her mouth with an apology ready on her lips, and then paused. A realization hit her, gently and with a bloom of warm excitement:

She didn't have to apologize. There was nothing to be sorry for. She loved Vesper and Vesper loved her and they were allowed to talk about it. She was allowed to say things like that.

So Leah let the words hang in the air; let a shy smile spread over her face as she watched her partner play the flustered role for once. When Vesper failed to come up with a response, she snickered. "Beet red looks good on you, babe."

Vesper let out a huff and covered her burning cheeks with both hands, but she was smiling too. "I should have known the tables would turn one of these days," she lamented.

"I learned from the best."

"Well," Vesper leaned forward on her elbows, letting her eyes go half-lidded as she held Leah's gaze, "just for the record, I consider myself lucky, too."

Just like that, Leah was flushing to the tips of her ears, too. She broke out in laughter, and soon Vesper joined her and Leah felt the familiar swell of happiness press at the inside of her chest. She would be content to stay here, just like this, forever, she thought.

She reached across the table to take Vesper's hand, just to touch her, and they fell into a companionable silence. It was nice—so nice—but not much of a New Year's celebration, Leah had to admit. So she reached for the radio on the kitchen counter and flicked it on for some pleasant atmosphere, tuning in to the Zuzu City station. it was the only channel they could get out here, but it was good enough.

All of the songs on the air tonight were upbeat instrumental numbers one might be able to party to, if so inclined. With Joja advertisements in between each one, of course. Leah turned the volume down low so the sounds blended into the background. The two resumed their conversation, a little more reserved; a little closer together, as evening matured into night.

Leah almost forgot entirely that the radio was on, the soft music was so like part of her own thoughts. That is, until something different came on. Something slow and sweet and—dare she say it—romantic. And Vesper didn't waste a second in taking advantage of the development. She pushed to her feet, extending a hand back down for Leah. Her lips were curled in that crooked smile and Leah knew exactly what she was going to say before she said it:

"Would you like to dance?"

Leah giggled despite her reservations—she was terrible at dancing; her dexterity apparently stopped at hand-eye coordination. "I'm going to step on your toes," she warned, though she was already standing, placing her hand tentatively in Vesper's waiting palm.

And Vesper swept her away.

It was supposed to be a waltz, maybe, except Leah was as clumsy as she'd forewarned and completely failed to fall into any sort of rhythm as Vesper tried to show her the steps. It wasn't long, then, before the farmer laughed helplessly and gave up and they began to make up their own instead. They swayed there in Leah's cramped little living room, weaving between the couch and the table and the artworks strewn about. Leah didn't care so much about the dance, though, as she did the feeling of her partner's arms around her waist and the warmth between them. She leaned into Vesper, resting her head on her shoulder to breathe in her grassy, comfortable scent. This, she thought absently for what was neither the first nor last time, this is what I want.

Love. Security. Simplicity. She saw now that that's what Stardew Valley was all about. At least, what it was now about; now that Vesper was its star citizen. Now that she'd brought the townspeople together and improved their lives and provided them a glimpse at a bright future. And none so much as Leah. She really was lucky that they'd met. Lucky that Vesper had taken an interest in her, too, and allowed them to grow so close. Lucky that Vesper loved her.

Or maybe the word was blessed.

Regardless of who deserved her thanks, Leah was thankful. And she was so, so happy.

She was deep enough in her thoughts that it caught her off guard when Vesper suddenly spun her into a dip. She yelped, throwing her arms around the farmer's neck to catch her balance, though she should not have feared. Vesper didn't struggle with her weight at all as she held her up, leaning in close so their noses almost brushed. Leah caught her breath in a gasp, eyes flicking down of their own accord because this was the perfect moment to kiss her—

And then a flash caught her eye: something blue on a chain, falling from the collar of Vesper's shirt. A necklace?

"Jewelry?" Leah asked a little breathlessly, hyper-aware of Vesper's lips so close to her own; the shape of firm muscles beneath her fingertips. It made her mind move a little slow. Made her hone in inexplicably on something as insignificant as jewelry right now; made her say, "Since when do you wear—"

Then it hit her.

A blue pendant. The shape of a slim, twisted seashell, glinting iridescent in the light, like maybe it wasn't quite of this world. Vesper, wearing it tonight of all nights, telling her I'd rather experience tonight sober.

It's a surprise.

Leah couldn't breathe. Couldn't take her eyes from the mermaid pendant, because that's unmistakably what it was. Couldn't wrap her head around just what it meant.

She reached out with one trembling hand to touch it. It was warm from Vesper's skin, maybe. Or maybe something else. "Is—is this—?"

For a long, heavy moment, Vesper didn't offer a reply except to pull Leah upright once more and wrap her in a slow, snug embrace—which was good, because the redhead's knees had gone weak.

"Vesper," she said hoarsely, almost a plea. Begging her to explain. To confirm both her wildest dream and her greatest fear. Her fingers dug into Vesper's shoulders as the farmer lowered them both onto the couch, supporting her. "Are you—?"

"I wasn't exactly sure how the tradition goes," said the farmer softly, looking Leah right in the eyes, though she sounded painfully unsure. One of her hands traced the redhead's spine. "Whether I was supposed to wear it or offer it to you or what. So…" She shrugged bashfully, cheeks flushing, but did not look away. The amber of her eyes was impossibly warm and intense and Leah wanted to shy away from it and drown in it all at once. Vesper seemed just as conflicted, but her grip on Leah remained steady. Her next words were hardly more than a breath:

"Will you marry me?"

Oh.

Oh, Yoba.

This is happening.

Leah's head was spinning. Marriage? What would that mean for them? Spending every day together, in the same house. Spending every night together, in the same bed. Sharing their lives together: the good, the bad, the ugly. The beautiful. Being together. Facing the future together. Forever.

It was frightening.

At the same time, it was practically what they'd been doing for months already. It was only a matter of making it official. Making it public. Making it permanent.

She wants me to marry her.

Oh, Yoba.

Leah couldn't help it. She started to cry.

Vesper was right there to comfort her. "Hey," she soothed, running steadying hands up and down Leah's arms, grounding her. Her brow was furrowed in concern—or fear—but she assured regardless, "We don't have to do this if you're not ready. Or if this isn't what you want."

"N-no," Leah blurted through her tears. She sniffed, and it sounded disgusting. She probably looked disgusting, too. She wants me to marry her? "I—I want to. I do. I accept!" she cried, and meant it with all her heart. She was shaking all over as she threw her arms around Vesper's neck. They kissed, somewhat desperately and messily, and then had to break away because Leah could barely breathe. "I just can't believe…" Her air left her on a shudder, and she wiped at her eyes to buy time. To steady herself.

It hardly worked.

Vesper leaned in; pressed their foreheads together. Her hair ticked Leah's brow. "What?" she prompted softly, torn between giddy hopefulness and the lingering cobwebs of concern.

Leah let out a laugh that was half sob. She just felt so full. "My whole life, people have told me that I wasn't good enough. That I couldn't possibly make my way as an artist. As my own person." She paused to sniff and wipe her eyes again, and her fingers shook. "I started to believe that happy endings only happened in stories. But you…" Leah lifted her hands to cradle Vesper's face. It felt like touching the sun; capturing the stars. Like it couldn't possibly be real. "You make me feel like I could do anything."

"I love you," Vesper replied instantly, like it was that simple; that obvious—like it could solve anything.

And maybe it could. It was certainly enough for Leah.

The artist sank into her partner's—her fiancée's—embrace, and it felt like two halves of a whole finally coming together. "I love you, too," she said through fresh tears. Unmistakably happy ones, this time. She let out a sigh, tightening her grip on Vesper, and admitted, "I always thought it would be awfully terrifying to commit to something so big."

Vesper brushed a kiss over her brow. Not the first, and certainly not the last. They had forever together now, after all. "And is it?"

"Yes," Leah confessed, laughing, "but I'm so happy I hardly notice."

…