(what was life even before you?)

When we first met, over messages, not in person, not in any way that was supposed to matter, we were both clear: never again.
We had become disillusioned with marriage.
Disillusioned with forever.
With the kind of love that promised everything and delivered nothing.
We weren’t looking for anything serious.
We didn’t believe in that kind of love.

And I don’t even know how it happened.
But before I knew it, we weren’t just in love.
We were truly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love.
The kind that takes hold in your bones.
The kind that makes you wonder what life even was before you knew each other.

It felt like our words spoke a language our hearts already knew.
Like we’d been writing the same story in different places,
and finally, the pages found each other.

But our story wasn’t just about finding each other across thousands of miles.
It wasn’t just timing, or luck, or chemistry.

It was more than that.
It was intense.
And beautiful.
And amazing.
But somehow, it was also gentle.
Peaceful.
Healing.

Being loved by you felt like being safe for the first time.
Like I didn’t have to brace myself anymore.
Like after years of living in survival mode, I could finally just be.
I could unravel.
I could rest.
And I could still be loved — in the good, the messy, the in-between.

You never made me feel bad for being me.
Not once.

I used to prepare for arguments that never came.
I built lists in my head, rehearsing all the reasons my thoughts or feelings were valid.
Ready to defend myself against the dismissal or insult I had grown used to.

But it never came.

With you, I wasn’t too much.
I was just right.
And I was enough.

I was seen.
I was loved.
I was praised.
And sometimes, I was worshiped, in the most beautiful, grounding way.
So fully that there wasn’t even a flicker of doubt in my mind that it was real.

You didn’t get mad when I needed reassurance.
You didn’t roll your eyes when I was anxious.
You listened.
You took responsibility.
You evolved.
You changed.
You encouraged me.

You never tried to make me small. You just kept building me up.

What I saw in you went deeper than anything you did for me.
You were a good man. Through and through.
Not for praise. Not for show.
You gave without needing anything in return.
You sacrificed without keeping score.
You kept the peace,
you gave the shirt off your back,
even if it meant you lost.

And somehow, even with all that,
you still didn’t fully see what I saw.

I wished you could.

I wished you could catch even a glimpse of the way I saw you.
Your heart.
Your kindness.
Your softness.
Your quiet strength.
Your willingness to love, even when you’d been hurt.

You were so important.
So valuable.
So deeply loved.

Our love was healing.
Not just the obvious wounds —
but the quiet ones I didn’t even know were still there.
The parts of me I had forgotten.
The parts I had buried.
You helped bring them back to life.

And now, what we have is real.
And it’s strong.
And I know, with every part of me,
there’s nothing we can’t survive together.

I’m grateful for the way you love me.
For the way you never ask me to shrink.
For the safety you’ve built around my softness.
For your patience, your humor, your steadiness.
For the way you celebrate my strength.
For how you hold me when I break.
For the way you show up, again and again, even when it’s hard.

It feels like we’ve always been.
I’m grateful that it’s you.
That it’s us.
That somehow, even in our skepticism, we found each other.
Almost like it was always meant to be.

And I hope you know.
Truly, deeply know.
That you are loved in return.
That you are safe here too.
That no part of you has to be hidden or earned.
That I see you.
That I admire you.
That you are important.
That you are valuable.
That you are integral to my life, to this love, to everything we’ve built.
That you are so, so deeply loved.

And I choose you.
Over and over. For the rest of my life.

Te Amo,
~Ana