Our story started at a place most people wouldn’t expect: Culver’s. We were just teenagers back then, working summer jobs — I was out front running food, and he was in the back working the kitchen, always a little flustered, always smiling through the chaos. At first, we were just coworkers, trading sarcastic remarks and laughing through long shifts. But somewhere between sitting in the parking lot after closing, eating leftover custard, and talking about everything and nothing, a real friendship began to grow. It was the kind of friendship that felt like home — easy, real, and constant. People used to ask if we were dating, and we’d laugh it off. “No, we’re just friends,” we’d say. But deep down, maybe part of us knew it was more. Because somewhere between the Culvers cheese curd and deep conversations under the stars, something shifted. Those late-night talks turned softer, the laughter lingered longer, and we both started looking at each other not just as best friends, but as the people we wanted to spend our lives with. From there, we spent six beautiful years growing together — through school, adventures, and every up and down life could throw at us. We laughed hard, loved harder, and never lost that deep friendship that started it all. Then one weekend, while we were camping — something we love to do — we went for a walk along the beach to take some photos. I turned around, and there he was, down on one knee in the sand, asking me to marry him. It was quiet, simple, and perfect — just like us. And in that moment, surrounded by nature, memories, and love, I said yes to forever with my best friend.