The roof balcony was ablaze with a hundred fairy lights, strung between potted trees that bent in the warm Chicago breeze. Below them, the city pulsed with life—horns and laughter ringing up on the summer night.

Sarah tied the strap of her emerald-green dress, watching Lucas struggle to open a bottle of champagne with flair. The cork exploded with a lavish extravagance, foam overflowing his fingers as he laughed.

"To us," he said, handing out two glasses before taking out a juice box for Olivia, who sat cross-legged on a lounge chair, already half-asleep but refusing to sleep through the "special night."

Sarah picked up her glass, the bubbles reflecting the starlight. "To fifteen years of enduring your horrible cooking."

Lucas banged his flute against hers. "To putting up with my snores."

"To Daddy's snores!" Olivia repeated sleepily, raising her juice box.

The champagne tasted that triumphant—like the night of their first evening in their new apartment when the movers had left and they'd had pizza to devour on the floor. Like the day Sarah was made creative director. Like last week, when Lucas's design firm won the very competitive Riverwalk project.

Olivia's head fell against Lucas's shoulder. He kissed her forehead softly before taking her indoors to bed. Sarah stepped out to the terrace railing, looking out over the shining skyline.

Stepping arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Lucas's mouth discovered the tender place beneath her ear. "Recall our first apartment?" he whispered. "The one with the radiator that racketed like a dying walrus?"

Sarah leaned back into him. "I miss that place."

"Liar."

She turned in his arms, her fingers following the threads of silver in the black hair. Fifteen years had etched lines around his eyes, but there was still the same intensity in his eyes that had stolen her breath the first time.

Lucas's arms snuck around her waist as distant music wafted up from a street performer below. In comfortable silence, he began moving in rhythm with her—their own little ball under the stars.

Sarah shut her eyes, letting the rhythm of their bodies carry her back in time—to the disaster of their first date, to the courthouse wedding, to the hospital room where they'd first cradled Olivia in their arms. All the falls, the tears, the triumphs had led them to this moment.

Lucas's voice was rough when he talked. "When I met you, I thought love was fireworks." His thumb rubbed the bare skin above her dress's neckline. "Turns out it's the embers that last."

Sarah's hand went into her pocket, her fingers curled around the velvet box. Now. The moment was now.

But before she could say a word, Lucas simply dropped to one knee.

Her breath caught.

"Sarah Carter," he said, producing a ring box of his own, "will you marry me?"

Sarah burst out laughing, tears streaming down her face as she pulled out her identical box. "I was just about to ask you the same thing!"

Lucas's eyes sprang open, then furrowed in delight. He took the ring from her case—a simple platinum band with their wedding date engraved on it—and slipped it onto his finger as she did with his.

Olivia's sleepy voice drifted across the open doorway. "Did you say yes, Mommy?"

Sarah turned to see their daughter standing in the window, peering through the curtains, her hair tousled from her pillow.

"We both did, baby," Lucas answered, scooping her up as she ran to them.

The three of them hugged at the railing, arms around each other, and watched as fireworks suddenly exploded over the lake—unplanned, perfect, theirs.

Fifteen years ago, they'd sworn forever. Tonight, they'd re-chosen it all again.

And as Olivia's small hand wrapped around theirs, Sarah knew—this was love's most triumphant victory. Not just living, but thriving. Not just holding on, but resurrection.

The fireworks painted the sky in bursts of violet and gold, shining through in their daughter's open, gaping eyes. Far down, the street musician began to play their song.

And Sarah and Lucas danced on, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.