I will always choose us first.
I will speak love, not just feel it.
I will never stop showing up, especially on the hard days.
I will listen without defensiveness.
I will not mistake your strength for not needing care.
I will nurture what we build, every day.
I will honor your body and your mind.
I will never compete with your dreams, only protect them.
I will celebrate your joy like it's mine.
I will never take your love for granted—not one hour, not one breath.

When she looked up at me, her eyes were brimming with tears, those silent, heavy ones that don't fall right away but blur everything, like light behind water. Her lips parted slightly, and for a second she didn't speak. She just looked at me like I was something she hadn't quite believed in until now. I reached for her hand and said it slowly, like a promise carved into stone.
"I love you October and I will love you in all the ways time cannot touch. With hands that never tire of reaching, with eyes that never stop seeing you. As deeply as I do now, and deeper still as the years unfold."
Her breath caught, just a little.
Then, without a word, she leaned forward and kissed me—soft, slow, and sure. Like she was anchoring us in this moment, in the life we had remade. Her hand found the folded pape and tucked it into her bra. "Close to my heart," she whispered, then grinned. "And safe from toddlers."
We laughed, and in that quiet room, with party crumbs still on the table and Lola's frosting handprint on my shirt, I knew that this was the only kind of success I'd ever need.
****
Fridays.
That became our promise, no matter what the week threw at us, we'd make time. Just us. A standing date, every Friday. It started as a way to celebrate making it through hell together but somewhere along the line, it became sacred. Our reset button. Our quiet vow.
It all started one friday lunch at my job. She had barely arrived when I saw that electric look in her eyes. The kind she got when something was already blooming in her head before the words caught up.
"I found one," she said, breathless with excitement. "Two, actually. They're small, but the light is perfect and the lease terms are clean. Nothing sketchy. I called the agent already."
I blinked. "Found what?"
"A space," she said, stepping closer. "For the shop. For my shop."
It hit me all at once, "You're opening the perfume shop?" I asked.
"Well... starting the process," she said with a grin that didn't let up. "I'm not launching tomorrow, but yes. I'm doing it. I spoke with Lina, the cosmetic chemist I met through the course forum, and she said her lab can handle small-batch safety testing. She's willing to consult until I get my diploma."
She sank into the armchair opposite me and pulled out her notes, already in motion. Her hands moved fast, flipping through sketches and ingredient lists, as her mind leapt two steps ahead. "I'll still finish the certification, of course I will, but legally, I can start retailing as long as I'm working with a licensed partner. I already run my own IFRA checks, and my labeling is compliant."
"I'll use the money you gave me to start," she said, her voice steady but lit with quiet resolve. "And yes, of course I'll finish my studies, getting that diploma matters to me. I want that closure. I want to earn it."