Ours wasn’t a story of fireworks or instant sparks. It didn’t begin with a grand moment or a sudden realization. It was quiet. Gradual. Like walking a familiar path without realizing where it would lead.
We first met when we were just kids—too small to remember details, too young to understand anything. Life kept crossing our paths, sometimes gently, sometimes randomly. One day, we were classmates at a tutoring center, struggling through math and English, and suddenly she asked for my number. I told her to ask someone else because I didn’t remember it. (Yes, I really said that. I still don’t live it down.)
In middle school, we were in the same school again. We weren’t in the same class, but I saw her often enough to notice how easily she made friends, how her presence made things feel lighter. Eventually, we grew close—real friends this time. And when high school started, we tried dating. It didn’t last long. Two months, maybe. But it was honest. Simple. A little awkward, but somehow it made sense.
We broke up, but we didn’t stop being friends. That friendship quietly grew into something deeper, more comfortable. Years went by, and on July 6, 2017, we chose each other again. No dramatic scene, no big words—just a quiet, mutual understanding that we wanted to walk through life together.
And we did. Day by day. Through laughter and miscommunication, shared dreams and petty arguments. We kept learning. We kept choosing.
On February 9, 2025, I came to her house with my family, a bouquet, and a ring. No kneeling, no speech—just me, standing in front of the girl I’ve grown up with, holding a promise I’ve been ready to make for years.
Now, we’re here. Still those two kids, a little older, hopefully a little wiser. Still teasing, still learning, still choosing each other—quietly, fully, always.
Thank You
for reading our story