Before we walked in, he told me to close my eyes, then took my hand and guided me up the stone steps.

His palm was warm against mine, slightly rough from his work at the carpentry shop.

The air inside smelled like old paper and cedar shelves, like vanilla and worn leather.

My footsteps echoed on hardwood floors.

"Okay," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "Open them."

I looked up and nearly stopped breathing.

It was a library. A full, towering library that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.

Vaulted ceilings stretched impossibly high. Brass lamps casting pools of golden light over reading nooks tucked into alcoves.

Rolling ladders waited beside floor-to-ceiling shelves, and tables were scattered throughout like islands of possibility.

Books everywhere, thousands of them, their spines creating a kaleidoscope of colours and stories.

But when I stepped closer, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it, I realized they weren't just any books.

They were all the ones I'd ever mentioned to him.

Every casual comment about wanting to read something, every wistful sigh over a first edition I couldn't afford, every story I'd said I missed from childhood.

He'd been listening.

For years, he'd been listening and remembering.

Pride and Prejudice sat next to The Secret Garden.

The complete works of Emily Dickinson leaned against a leather-bound set of Nancy Drew mysteries.

There was the cookbook I'd mentioned wanting to try, the poetry collection I'd quoted from at eighteen, even the novels I'd been embarrassed to admit I'd loved.

I turned to face him, my heart caught in my throat like a bird trying to escape, and he stood there watching me with eyes the color of lake water in the summer.

"You once told me books are where you feel safe," he said, voice rough around the edges.

"You said they were the only place you could be completely yourself."

Then he walked to the centre of the room, turned back to face me, and smiled the smile that had been undoing me for years.

"I built this for you, and for one reason." He stepped closer, reaching for my hands.

"Because I love you."