It was the first week of April. The cherry trees along Philosopher's Path had just reached their peak — a canopy of pale pink that turned the afternoon light into something dreamlike.

Kenji was sitting on the low stone wall, sketching. Yuki was walking fast, late for something, when a gust of wind sent a shower of petals across the path. She stopped. He looked up. That was all it took.

Three springs later, he proposed in the same spot, same petals, same light. She said yes before the words were finished.