We went on a last-minute trip to Mallorca — just four days, squeezed in with whatever time we could get. After a late arrival and an early night, we promised ourselves we’d make the most of the first full day. While sitting in a beach bar looking out over the sea, Megan casually said, “I wonder how much it costs to hire a boat for the day?” To Lewis’s absolute delight — because he had no plan whatsoever for how he was going to propose — this suddenly became the plan. It turns out Megan unknowingly booked her own proposal, which is deeply ironic given she likes to be in control of absolutely everything. Lewis, naturally, just did as he was told (as usual). That evening, Lewis suddenly became oddly obsessed with buying a really nice bottle of champagne — something he would never normally do. Megan found it a bit strange, but ultimately decided that champagne is champagne at the end of the day, and she certainly wasn’t going to question it. The next morning, we picked up our boat in Palma marina. The instructions were… questionable. The English was broken, the accent was strong, and we definitely did not understand how to use the anchor — but off we sailed anyway, straight into open water. We reached a stunning cove surrounded by enormous yachts. Cue panic. The anchor wasn’t holding properly, and the boat began drifting ever so slowly but very surely towards a yacht that Megan estimated to be worth north of £10 million. This was the moment Megan fully panicked — including standing up and flapping her arms (according to Lewis). What followed was not mild. The anchor was hauled completely back out of the sea, we sailed to another spot… and then another… until Megan was finally satisfied that we were absolutely, definitely not drifting into someone else’s floating mansion. Only then could the anchor go down again — and only then was Megan happy. Meanwhile, Lewis was quietly spiralling. The ring was hidden in his bag. He’d been nervous all morning. Every moment of “faffing” was actually him trying to secretly get the ring out without Megan noticing — and without dropping it overboard — all while shaking with nerves and wondering when everyone could finally relax. Once calm was restored, we swam, climbed back onto the boat, and Megan joked, “This would actually be the perfect place to propose.” Lewis responded by shoving her straight back into the sea. Eventually, we lay down to relax — or so Megan thought. Lewis finally sat beside her and delivered a speech that didn’t quite make sense… until he said, “We were here last year. We’re here this year. I wonder where we’ll be next year?” Megan answered exactly as expected: “Hopefully getting married.” Then… silence. A very long silence. Megan immediately tried to backtrack. Lewis tried to recover his line. The ring was subtly slid into view. Megan burst into tears before she’d even been asked. There was crying. There was snot. There was a very enthusiastic yes. We celebrated with champagne, called everyone we love, and eventually Megan fell asleep right there on the Magaluf strip — while Lewis captured the whole thing in photos and videos for future entertainment. Pure Megan and Lewis style. Later, as it turns out, that “next year” we wondered about will be in Tuscany — getting married in a medieval castle. From the Magaluf strip to a Tuscan Castello… definitely going up in the world.