I was born in a small village, about forty minutes by motorbike from the nearest town.
My grandmother raised me. My mother left when I was six.
From an early age, I learned how to work. I milked cows, cooked on a wood stove, carried water from the river. Life wasn’t romantic — it was practical.
Whenever I managed to catch phone signal, I joined Facebook groups just to escape for a while.
That’s where I met him.
In his profile picture, he was standing on a yacht.
Two Worlds, One Conversation
At first, I thought we were just chatting out of boredom.
He lived in a big city, studied engineering, and laughed every time I told him I had to move the antenna around just to get the TV to work. Not cruelly — just unaware of how different my world was from his.
We talked for almost five months without seeing each other.
He asked for photos, but I didn’t have a good phone. I took selfies with my cousin’s.
When he said he wanted to meet in person, I thought he was joking.
A week later, he texted me that he was already on his way.
The First Meeting
I waited for him in the small village park, my heart racing.
When he got off the bus, he reached out his hand and said:
“Finally. I get to see you.”
He brought me chocolates and a novel to read.
Simple things — but I still remember them.
Not Everyone Believed in Us
His family didn’t support him.
They asked what he was doing with “an uneducated village girl.” He never repeated their words to me exactly — but I felt it.
Still, every month, he traveled to see me.
He helped me sign up for a cooking course. He kept telling me I could achieve anything I wanted.
On our first anniversary, he suggested we move in together in the city. He had found a job he could do remotely.
I said yes — even though I didn’t know anyone there.
My grandmother supported me.
“Not everyone is born to stay,” she said.
“Go. Live your life.”
Learning to Live Together
Living together wasn’t easy.
He’s organized. I improvise.
He sleeps in silence. I turn on music for everything.
We argued more than once.
Sometimes, when we went out, I felt insecure — noticing how he looked at others. One day I told him maybe he had made a mistake choosing me.
He answered calmly:
“I fell in love with you because you don’t pretend to be someone else. And I wouldn’t change that for anything.”
Finding My Own Path
Over time, I started a small dessert business.
At first, I sold to people in our building. Then at the neighborhood market.
Sometimes in the evenings, while he works with headphones on, I sit on the balcony and think about how much everything has changed.
He’s lost in projects. I talk in my sleep.
But despite the differences, we choose each other every day — even when it’s not easy.
Five Years In
We’ve been together for five years.
We’re not a perfect couple.
There was no white dress.
No engagement party.
But there is respect. Shared dreams. And a quiet way of looking at each other, as if the world pauses for a second.
I never imagined there would be days when he would be washing dishes in the kitchen while I take orders for rice pudding and milk desserts.
But this is us.
And somehow, it fits.