[Perspective: Aryan Spencer]
I turned around.
Standing a few feet away was a young boy, maybe ten or eleven years old, holding a woven basket filled with vibrant red roses.
He was wearing faded jeans and a slightly oversized t-shirt, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.
"Mluvíš česky?" (You only speak Czech?) I asked.
Wanda blinked, looking from me to the boy.
"Ano," (Yes,) the boy nodded, his eyes widening in surprise at hearing his native language from a tourist.
"Když nás vyfotíš, koupím všechny tvoje růže. Platí?" (If you can take pictures of us, I can buy all of your roses. Is that a deal?) I asked, holding out my phone.
The boy's face lit up with disbelief, but he nodded enthusiastically. "Dobře!" (Okay!)
He handed me the entire basket of roses, carefully taking my phone from my hand.
I took the roses.
"I do not know if you know the local language here," she whispered.
"I learned quite a few languages during my schooling," I said casually, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close for the photo.
"You are quite talented," she noted, smiling for the camera as the boy snapped a few pictures.
"Yes, you already feel it, right?" I murmured near her ear, a teasing lilt in my voice.
Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she elbowed my ribs hard. "Stop saying all these things in public! It is embarrassing!"
"Okay, okay, no more," I laughed, rubbing my ribs.
I took a step back, pointing toward one of the massive statues further down the bridge.
"Look at that detail on the masonry," I said, gesturing vaguely.
Wanda turned, looking in the direction I was pointing. "There is nothing there, Aryan. It is just stone."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
She turned back to me, an exasperated sigh on her lips. "There is no… "
I was kneeling on the cobblestones of the Charles Bridge, resting on one knee. I held that bouquet of red roses.
I looked up at her, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"Wanda," I started, my voice remarkably steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "I know we were just two people looking for a quiet corner to hide from the world. But somewhere between the burnt toast and the sitcoms, we became an 'us'."
Wanda's eyes immediately filled with tears. Her breath hitched audibly, her hand flying to her mouth.
"But until now," I continued, reaching out to gently take her free hand in mine, "I wasn't able to give our relationship an official title. We have just been existing in this beautiful bubble. And I don't want to just exist with you anymore. I want it to be real."
I took a deep breath, looking straight into her tear filled eyes.
"So, taking this opportunity, in the middle of a bridge that connects two worlds... I would like to ask, will you be my girlfriend?"
A tear spilled over her eyelashes, tracking down her cheek. She let out a choked laugh, nodding her head frantically.
"Yes," she sobbed, dropping to her knees right there on the dirty cobblestones, ignoring the dress entirely.
She reached out and took the bouquet of roses from my hands, clutching them to her chest as if they were made of gold, before throwing her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder.
"Yes, Aryan."
I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist, burying my face in her hair.
Suddenly, a loud burst of applause erupted around us.
I pulled back slightly, looking around.
The crowd of tourists on the bridge had stopped walking. Dozens of people were clapping, cheering, and smiling at us.
Wanda pulled away from my chest, her face flushing crimson as she realized we had an audience.
She quickly wiped her tears away, burying her face against my shoulder to hide her embarrassment.
I laughed, standing up and pulling her up with me.
I raised a hand to the crowd, offering a theatrical bow.
"Thank you for the encouragement!" I called out to the cheering strangers. "Thank you!"
"She is a keeper, man!" a guy with a thick American accent shouted from the back of the crowd.
"I know!" I shouted back, wrapping my arm securely around Wanda's waist.
After a few minutes, the crowd dispersed, returning to their sightseeing, leaving us standing near the edge of the balustrade.
The little boy, who had been watching the entire scene with wide eyes, stepped forward and tentatively handed my phone back to me.
I took the phone, swiping through the gallery.
The photos were incredible.
He had managed to capture the exact moment I dropped to one knee, the surprise on Wanda's face, the massive bouquet of roses.
"Ty fotky jsou moc krásné," (These are very beautiful pictures,) I said. "Kolik chceš za všechny ty růže?" (How much do you want for all the roses?)
The boy looked down at his empty basket, shuffling his feet.
"Ty květiny nejsou drahé, protože je pěstuji na zahradě," (Those flowers are not expensive because I grow them in my garden,) the boy said softly. "Chci za to jen 50 eur." (I just need 50 euros for them.)
I looked closer at the boy. He looked exhausted, far too tired for a kid his age.
"Co dělají tvoji rodiče?" (What are your parents?) I asked gently.
The boy looked away. "Moje matka nás opustila a utekla s někým jiným. Zůstali jsme jen my dva s tátou." (My mother left us and ran away with someone else. Me and my dad are the only ones left.)
"A co tvůj táta?" (What about your dad?) I asked, my heart aching for the kid. "Proč pracuješ ty?" (Why are you working?)
"Můj táta měl zánět slepého střeva a nemáme žádné zdravotní pojištění, protože matka ukradla všechny peníze a úspory," (My dad had appendicitis and we do not have any health insurance cause our mother stole all the money and savings,) the boy explained, his voice trembling slightly. "I když ho minule léčili léky, nebudeme mít dost peněz na operaci. Proto jsme na operaci nešli a bolest se znovu vrací. Ale ještě jsme nezaplatili účet." (Even though he got treated last time with medication, we do not have enough money for the surgery. That's why we did not have surgery and the pain is re-occurring again. And we haven't paid the bill yet.)
I felt a cold surge of anger at the injustice of the situation. "Kolik stál ten účet za poslední léčbu?" (How much is the bill for the last treatment?)
"Ten účet byl 2,000 CZK," (That bill was 2,000 CZK,) he said miserably.
"Kolik potřebujete na operaci?" (How much do you need for the surgery?)
"Na samotnou operaci potřebujeme minimálně 50 000 CZK a další rozšířený podíl bude 85 000 CZK," (We need at least 50,000 CZK for surgery alone and other expanded share will be 85,000 CZK,) the boy recited, clearly having memorized the terrifying numbers.
I reached into the inner pocket of my blazer.
I pulled out a thick stack of five hundred euro notes. I separated ten bills from the stack and handed them to the boy.
"Tady je 5000 eur, což se rovná 120 000 CZK, což stačí na léčbu tvého táty," (Here is €5000 which is equal to 120,000 CZK which is enough for your dad's treatment,) I said firmly, pressing the money into his small hand.
The boy stared at the purple bills, his mouth falling open in shock.