Chapter 61: The Second Proposal
The golden morning sun cast its soft rays over the Salvatore estate, making the dewdrops on the grass shimmer like tiny diamonds. Birds chirped high in the trees, as if playing a new tune for a different kind of day. But inside, the scene was entirely different—the chaos was about to erupt… once again.
Damon burst into Alexander's room without bothering to knock, a mischievous grin on his face and two cups of coffee in his hands.
"Rise and shine, lover boy."
Alexander groaned under the covers and said in a hoarse voice:
"I swear on everything sacred, if you woke me just to mock me, I will drain your entire bourbon stash."
Damon laughed as he tossed one of the cups onto the bedside table.
"Don't act like I don't bring gifts. This is the best coffee in town. Consider me a messenger of love."
Alexander sat up in bed, his hair wild as if a storm had passed through, and stared at his older brother half-conscious.
"What do you want?"
Damon came closer and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I want… to help you plan the proposal."
Alexander blinked in surprise.
"I already proposed."
"Yes, yes, the whole 'cursed man finally kneels for love' scene. Very dramatic. Very you. But now it's time to get serious. Big ring. Big moment. Unforgettable memory. Let's make something special."
Alexander sighed.
"Why do you care so much?"
Damon replied, this time with more sincerity:
"Because you deserve a moment that's all about joy. No blood. No screaming. Just Bonnie. Just love."
Downstairs, Stefan had already beaten them to the kitchen, flipping through a wedding magazine like he was born for it. Caroline had dragged him into the whirlwind of planning, and now he seemed unable to escape.
When the brothers joined him, each carrying a cup, Stefan raised an eyebrow:
"Don't tell me… Proposal, version two?"
Damon slumped into a seat:
"Exactly. He's going to do it right this time."
Alexander sipped his coffee quietly.
"You two act like we're living in a fairy tale."
Stefan smiled warmly and said:
"In a way… you are. You both went through hell and came back. If anyone deserves a storybook ending, it's you."
Caroline and Bonnie entered the kitchen moments later, laughing about something on the phone. As soon as Bonnie saw Alexander, her whole face lit up. The brothers exchanged meaningful glances.
Stefan muttered as he watched:
"I'll never get tired of seeing that."
Damon chuckled:
"He's a goner."
Later that day…
Alexander walked slowly through the forest near the waterfalls, the velvet box in his hand as if it were fragile glass.
Yes, he had already proposed. But this time, he wanted it to be perfect—without fear, without shadows from a heavy past. Just him… the man he had become. A man who had lived, loved, and finally found freedom.
Bonnie arrived at the old stone bench—the one they used to sit on when life was uncertain. She tilted her head in question.
"Are you okay?"
He answered with a sincere smile:
"I'm more than okay… I've never felt more alive. With you."
He took her hands, his eyes never leaving hers.
"I know I already asked you before. But back then, the darkness still surrounded us. Today… I'm asking again. In the light."
Then he knelt on one knee, in the old-fashioned, reverent way.
"Bonnie Bennett… will you marry me?"
Bonnie beamed with overwhelming joy as she looked at him.
"Of course I will."
—
At the Salvatore house…
Damon was halfway through a bottle of bourbon when the door opened.
"Huh?" he said as he stood, hope gleaming in his eyes.
"She said yes—I mean, she already said yes—did you really think she'd say no?" Alexander replied with a calm smile that even melted Damon's hardened heart.
Stefan raised his glass:
"To the last Salvatore… finally down."
Damon smiled:
"We're officially off the market. The end is near."
Caroline laughed:
"Now the real chaos begins."
Bonnie rested her head on Alexander's shoulder, her fingers entwined with his.
And once again, the house filled with laughter,
with love, and with the unbreakable bond between three brothers… and the women who stood by them, no matter how dark the night.
.
.
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