Fourteen.

When I was a little girl, like all other little girls, I loved love stories. The prettiest ones where the best, where the prince charming would save the princess and protect her from all harm, and they would stay forever and ever in love, inside their pretty happy ending.

I grew up to find prince charmings extremely boring, and the princesses in distress? Ugh, even worse. There was no need to save me from anything nor protect me, since I was perfectly capable of doing it by myself. But the wish of a love story was still very present.

Turns out no story, movie, book/manga, prepares you for the amount of work a real relationship entails. There are tears and heartbreaks and misunderstandings and vulnerability and uncertainty… but there’s also growth and change and forgiveness and real, unconditional love.

Fourteen years ago, around this time, we were getting ready to meet each other alone for our first date, where we’d walk hand in hand for the first time and share our first kiss. Right now we share a place that we call home, a life, so many stories and so many memories and so many smiles… and a near two year old baby. Things could have gone so differently. They didn’t.

And I couldn’t be happier. And I can’t wait for what’s to come, because I know I’m with You, and we are going to be there for each other no matter what. And no, I didn’t get a love story like in the movies… Β I’ve got my own, Our Love story.

Happy Anniversary!