The morning started soft—just the way the world should feel when you’re about to do something holy. There was no thunderclap, no sky splitting in two. Just dew on the grass, coffee on the porch, and the steady beat of a heart that knew—finally, unquestionably—that it had found home.

I saw you before you saw me, standing under that old oak tree, the one we used to sit beneath when the world was too loud. You were nervous—I could tell by the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve—but you were beautiful. Not just in the way the sun kissed your face, but in the way your soul has always reached for mine, even when I wasn’t brave enough to reach back.

We said our vows like we’d written them in another life. Because maybe we did. Maybe all those quiet moments, all the pain, all the waiting—it all led here. To this. To us.

I married the love of my life today.

Not just the person who makes me laugh when I want to break, or the one who reads every part of me like a well-worn novel—but the one who stood by me when I was nothing but ash and memory. You believed in the best version of me before I even knew he existed.

And now? I get to love you for the rest of my days.

No matter how many storms we weather. No matter how many chapters we still have to write.

Today was page one.

And God, what a beginning.