We sat together on her porch for hours, just talking really talking for the first time in months. No phones, no distractions, no pretending. I told her about my fears, my exhaustion, and how I thought being distant was protecting us from disappointment. She told me how being ignored had slowly broken her heart. That night, I realized love isn’t about money or distance it’s about presence.

It’s been three years since that night. We didn’t get engaged right away. We took it slow, rebuilding what we almost lost. Today, we still live in two different cities, but not a single day goes by without effort — a call, a letter, a visit, a reminder that love survives when both people keep choosing it. That rainy night didn’t end with a proposal — it began with understanding. And that, more than anything, is what love really means.