Lily's POV

  Three months.

  That's how long it had been since I submitted the first piece of my novel into the competition. Now, I was almost halfway through the uploads and my work was actually getting noticed. Comments, shares, even some messages from other writers saying they loved it. It felt unreal.

  Even Payton had read it. Voluntarily.

  "I cried at the one about the girl's dad," he'd said last week, hugging me from behind while we walked home. "But like, manly tears."

  I laughed then, and I was still laughing about it now, replaying his voice in my head while I helped Beatrice stuff pastel-colored petals into little paper cones for tonight.

  "You're so far gone," she teased, flicking a petal at my face. "You blush every time that boy texts you."

  "Do not."

  "You do. It's disgusting. And also... kind of cute."

  I didn't deny it. Payton had somehow become the person I looked forward to talking to the most. Even Camila, who had been skeptical in her classic protective-bestie way, had started warming up to him. Maybe it was the way he helped me research character arcs or how he brought her coffee without asking. Either way, things felt easy. Not rushed. Just... good.

  And while my heart was low-key bursting over that, the real event of the day was still ahead — Madison's proposal.

  Woody had told me two weeks ago. Pulled me aside after dinner and said, "Lily, I want to ask Madison to marry me. And I want your help."

  I blinked at him, full spaghetti fork paused halfway to my mouth. "Me?"

  "You're her sister. You know her heart. And I... I want this to feel like her dream."

  So we planned. Beatrice handled florals. The triplets had practiced walking with lanterns like flower girls. I managed timing, dresses, fake distractions, and most importantly — getting Madison there without suspecting anything.

  Which brings me to now. Sitting beside her in the car while she ranted about everything that had gone wrong this week.

  "I swear, Lily," she huffed, turning into the driveway, "sometimes I think no one in this family even notices me anymore."

  I frowned. "That's not true."

  "You barely text me these days, Woody's always busy or distracted, and even Mom's more interested in Beatrice's modeling thing. I just... I don't know. Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I'm just tired."

  "You're not overreacting," I said gently, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "But also... maybe today will surprise you."

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  She side-eyed me. "Surprise me how?"

  I shrugged like it was nothing. "Woody said something about renovations. We have to go through the back."

  She groaned. "Great. I wore heels."

  "Trust me."

  We got out of the car. The house looked dark from the outside — not eerie, but quiet, almost like it was holding its breath. I led her around the back garden path, trying not to trip over the cobblestone while texting Beatrice a quick "We're here."

  "Lily," Madison whispered, "are you sure they're renovating? This place looks—"

  But then she saw it.

  The first bouquet.

  Nestled in a lantern-lit arch of baby's breath and blush roses, it sat in a clear glass vase on a white pedestal. A soft glow lit it from below, making the petals look like something out of a fairytale. Madison stopped.

  "What is this?" she whispered.

  "This," I said, holding her hand tighter, "is the beginning."

  One by one, we passed the bouquets. Each one was different — daisies, peonies, gardenias — all her favorites. And then, just up ahead, soft music began to rise. A voice — live, soft, trembling with sweetness — started singing her favorite song: "Turning Page."

  Madison gasped, hand covering her mouth.

  And there he was.

  Woody, standing in the middle of the courtyard, now bathed in light. Twinkle lights stretched overhead like stars caught in netting. He wore a navy blue suit, no tie, just his crooked smile and nervous eyes.

  Madison didn't move. Didn't breathe. I gave her the softest nudge.

  "Go."

  She walked slowly toward him, petals crunching lightly beneath her heels. The singer's voice soared just as she reached him.

  Woody took her hands.

  "I know I don't say it enough," he said, voice shaking just a little, "but loving you has been the easiest, hardest, and most beautiful part of my life."

  Her eyes were already wet.

  "I want to build forever with you," he continued, dropping to one knee. "Marry me, Madison. Be my home."

  She choked on a laugh. "Are you kidding me?" she whispered. "Yes. Yes, of course!"

  Everyone rushed out of hiding then — the triplets squealing, Mom already crying, Dad filming the whole thing sideways on his phone. Madison kissed Woody so hard his glasses fell off.

  It was perfect.

  But then Woody turned around, smiling shyly. "I have one more thing," he said.

  Everyone froze.

  He gestured to the house behind him.

  "This house... it's for you. All of you," he said, facing my parents. "I bought it to give your family a space where everyone can grow and be together. It's a gift. For the love and chaos and honesty you've all brought into my life."

  Silence. Then Mom covered her mouth with both hands. "Woody... this is too much—"

  "No," Dad interrupted softly, tears in his eyes. "It's just right."

  The triplets screamed again. Beatrice hugged a tree. Madison just stood there like someone had knocked the air from her lungs.

  "Are we moving?" she whispered to me.

  "Looks like it."

  "You knew?"

  I grinned. "Maybe."

  Everyone spilled into the house, which was newly furnished and smelled like lemon oil and fresh paint. There were rooms for everyone. A reading nook with skylights just for me. A mini studio space Beatrice claimed immediately. Even the dining table was custom-made to fit all of us.

  It was overwhelming. Warm. Full of light and joy.

  That night, as we sat around in the backyard with music playing and fairy lights still twinkling above, Madison leaned into me.

  "Hey."

  "Hey."

  "Thank you. For not letting me flake. For knowing."

  I smiled. "You're my sister. You really think I wouldn't help make your magic happen?"

  She laughed softly. "Still mad you didn't warn me about the heels though."

  We both burst into giggles.

  Later, while the others danced or drank sparkling juice or played with the triplets' glitter bombs, I sat off to the side, phone buzzing in my pocket.

  A message from Payton.

  "Saw the pics your sister posted. You looked happy. I like seeing you like that."

  I texted back without even thinking.

  "You help with that."

  Something was blooming — not just in the house, or the lights, or the proposal.

  But inside me, too.