Garrett had a way of making normal moments feel special. He’d leave little notes in my car after dates and bring takeout to my place when I worked late.
In our second year together, he proposed at that same coffee shop, getting down on one knee right where we met. I remember the whole place going quiet, like everyone was waiting for me.
“Eveline,” he said, hands shaking as he held out the ring, “I want to build a life with you. I want to wake up next to you for the next 50 years.”
Of course, I said yes. How could I not? We were so in love, so sure we’d be together forever.
After we married, everything felt perfect. We bought our little house in Maplewood with the white fence and big oak tree in the backyard. It was just like I’d drawn in my notebooks as a kid.
Garrett got promoted to regional manager, while I kept my job at the marketing firm downtown.
We talked about starting a family, and about painting the spare room yellow for a nursery. The color we picked was called “Sunrise Glow,” and it felt like a promise.
When Nora was born five years ago, I thought we’d hit the happiest time ever. Garrett cried when he held her first.
He whispered to her tiny face, “Daddy’s going to take care of you and Mommy forever.” I believed him completely, not knowing he’d break that promise a few years later.
Those early years with our little girl were everything I’d dreamed.
