James and Arias met when they were thirteen. At the time, it didn’t feel significant. They were just kids in church youth group. James was known as the wrestling guy who always looked a little intense. Arias was quieter, observant, and smart. Their introduction came through a mutual friend in freshman year of high school. If you had told either of them then that they would get married one day, they probably would’ve laughed. But their lives kept overlapping. In high school, Arias’ cousins, Mason and Bruce, joined the wrestling team. That meant she started showing up to meets. She’d sit next to James on the bleachers during long tournament days. Years later she admitted she chose that seat because he looked intimidating enough to keep people from bothering her. He didn’t mind. They talked. They grabbed breakfast burritos on late start Wednesdays. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just comfortable. And that comfort stuck. After graduation in 2017, James left for college at University of Nevada, Reno. Arias stayed in Sacramento and went to University of California, Davis. They lived separate seasons and strived towards their degrees. But somehow, even when they weren’t close in distance, they never disappeared from each other’s lives. During COVID, their worlds overlapped again at the Walters house. James was there almost every day. He would work out and stay late to hangout with Mason and Uncle Joe. Arias lived there and they often crossed paths, pausing whatever they were doing for a quick chat. He’d stop by the boba shop where she worked. It was his way of checking in on her and she’d always give him free drinks. She made sure his black milk tea with boba and vanilla ice cream was ready before he even stepped inside. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t intentional one-on-one time. It was just life happening in the same place, consistently. There was church at Encounter. There was college group on Tuesday nights at KEYS. There was the surprise of getting new jobs in the same department. There were conversations that started casually and somehow lasted longer than expected. Looking back, their lives were always intertwining. Although they might not have known at the time, God had a plan to weave them together. They saw each other grow up. They saw each other in relationships that didn’t work. They saw each other frustrated, stubborn, figuring things out. Whenever she was going through a hard time, he took her to grab a McFlurry so she could talk it out. When he was in a situation people criticized, she didn’t pile on. She told him the truth without shaming him. When one of them was going through a challenge, the other would listen. No lectures. No pressure. Just presence. And over time, that started to mean something. For James, trust isn’t quick. It’s built slowly. And with Arias, it had already been built without either of them trying. Years of shared history. Years of watching each other become who they are. Years of quiet loyalty. At some point, that friendship didn’t feel like just friendship anymore. It wasn’t a lightning strike. It wasn’t sudden. It was more like stepping back and realizing, “They’ve been here the whole time.” That’s what makes it sweet. It’s kind of crazy to think about — knowing someone for half your life and then realizing they’re the person you want to spend the rest of it with. But that’s what happened. When James proposed to Arias at Shadybrook Winery Estate in Napa, it wasn’t the beginning of their story. It was the continuation of something that had been growing since they were thirteen. Their relationship wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t two people falling in love overnight. It was two people who grew to love each other over time. And maybe that’s what makes it special. Not that it was loud. But that it was lasting.