We didn’t fall in love at first sight. There were no sparks, no butterflies, and no dramatic moment where everything suddenly made sense. Ours came slowly—like puzzle pieces quietly finding their place, one by one. We were just two little kids in kindergarten, too young to remember much, but somehow life kept gently pulling us back together.

In elementary school, we went to different schools. Then, unexpectedly, we met again in the same tutoring class. Between confusing math problems and awkward English exercises, we found small pockets of laughter and quiet familiarity. And in 2010—here’s a funny one—I asked for his number. Yes, I asked first. His response? “Ask someone else, I don’t remember it.” I was annoyed, of course. But strangely enough, that tiny, ridiculous moment never left my memory.

In middle school, we ended up in the same school again. Not in the same class, but close enough to become real friends. Without realizing it, he became part of my everyday life. When high school began, we decided to give dating a try. It lasted only two months—short, a little awkward, but honestly sweet. We broke up, but didn’t drift apart. We stayed friends. And somehow, that friendship became even stronger than before.

Time passed, and we both grew. A lot changed. But we stayed. And on July 6, 2017, we chose each other again. There was no dramatic confession, no fireworks—just a quiet decision that felt right. From then on, we grew up side by side. There were disagreements over food, shared laughs, silences we didn’t always understand, and moments that made us feel like home.

And then came February 9, 2025. He came to my house—not only with his family, but with a bouquet of flowers and a ring. No kneeling, no speech. Just presence. Love. And that quiet certainty that’s always been there between us.

Now here we are. Still two people who started as nothing more than kids in class. Still teasing, still figuring things out. But still choosing each other. Every time.