Just as John and I were basking in the warmth of our anniversary on a sun-kissed beach, a woman in a white swimsuit sprinted toward us, dropped to her knees, and cried his name.

My breath caught.
Who was she—and why was she looking at my husband like that?

The morning of our anniversary had started with a chill I couldn’t shake.

<blockquote>“JOHN… No, please don’t leave me… John!”</blockquote> I sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat, reaching out into the emptiness of our bed.

“It was just a dream,” I told myself. A vivid one, too real for comfort.

“Rosa?” John’s voice called out from the hallway.
When he appeared in the doorway, coffee in hand and concern in his eyes, relief hit me like a wave.

“I had a bad dream,” I admitted.

He came closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, let’s chase it away with some good news. Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

It hit me—I had forgotten. Ten years. A whole decade of memories and growing together. I threw my arms around him, grateful for the reality of this moment.

Then he told me to close my eyes and hold out my hands. I felt something smooth, light. When I opened my eyes, I gasped.

<blockquote>Two plane tickets. The Dominican Republic. We were leaving in three hours.</blockquote>

I barely had time to pack, my heart racing with excitement. We were finally going to get the connection we’d been craving—no emails, no deadlines, just us. For the first time in months, it felt like we were falling in love all over again.

Everything about the trip felt like a dream: the warm air, the rhythm of waves, the way John looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

And for two days, it was perfect.
Beachside laughter. Coconut-sipping. Star-kissed bachata under the moonlight.
I had a secret of my own—a tiny one. Nestled beneath my heart, growing quietly.

<blockquote>I was pregnant.</blockquote>

I’d brought a tiny locket—two baby feet carved in silver—and planned to give it to John during the sunset stroll he’d suggested.

That evening, the sky burned with oranges and pinks as we walked barefoot along the shoreline. I slipped the box into my pocket, my heart fluttering.

“John,” I began, “there’s something I want to tell y—”

But my words were cut off.

A figure ran toward us, splashing through the surf, calling his name like a prayer or a warning.
She dropped to her knees. Her voice cracked.

<blockquote>“John! You’re the love of my life. Please stop pretending and choose me. Marry me.”</blockquote>

The air left my lungs.

I turned to John, waiting for an explanation—denial, anything—but he looked stunned. Then… he laughed.

Laughed.

He walked over and pulled her up into a hug.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?!” I finally screamed, my hand still gripping the locket in my pocket.

John turned back to me, eyes wide with realization. “Rosa, I’m so sorry—this is Julia. From college. She and I… we used to do theater together. It’s a prank. She’s getting her revenge for something stupid I did back then.”

Julia grinned sheepishly. “I saw him from afar and thought, what better time than now?”

I blinked, heart still pounding, the leftover panic shaking in my limbs. I managed a strangled laugh, tears mixing with saltwater.

“You two are the worst,” I mumbled, swatting John’s chest. “I nearly fainted.”

He pulled me into his arms, serious now. “I swear, I didn’t know she was here. I’d never hurt you. Never.”

As my heartbeat slowed, I remembered the box in my pocket. Maybe… maybe it was still the right time.

“Okay, Daddy,” I whispered. “I have a surprise, too.”

I handed him the small box.

His fingers trembled as he opened it. He stared for a long second, then looked up at me, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Are you serious? Are you really—”

I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks. “We’re going to be parents.”

He scooped me up into his arms, spinning me around. His joy—loud, boyish, beautiful—echoed across the beach.

Julia, watching nearby, snapped a photo of us in that perfect moment. “Okay, okay, now that’s a better proposal than mine.”

We laughed. All of us. Even me.

As the sky deepened into twilight and the first stars appeared, John laced his fingers with mine. “So,” he said softly, “this trip really was the beginning of something new.”

I smiled up at him. “The best chapter yet.”

And just like that, the memory of that nightmare faded into the past.
Because what we were building—starting right now—was more real than any dream.