My parents have one of those love stories that doesn’t need big drama or grand entrances — just a car, some late-night drives, and a feeling that never really went away. They met in high school through mutual friends on a night where there was nothing to do but drive around. My mom always says she felt something for my dad the moment they met — and from the way she tells it, he felt the same. But instead of diving straight into romance, they became close friends. Really close. The kind of friends who would drive for hours just to talk, to sit in that comfortable silence you only find with someone who just gets you. They stayed "just friends" for a while, even though everyone around them could see where it was heading. It wasn’t until after high school, when they were both off at different colleges — six hours apart and living in different states — that they finally admitted what they’d known all along: they were in love. Distance made things harder, but it also made them stronger. They saw each other about once a month and held onto the things that reminded them of each other — late-night phone calls, playlists, and a secret spot back home they always returned to. That spot became kind of sacred. A place where everything felt clear. It’s where my dad proposed. They’d only been dating for about a year and a half, and during one of my mom’s visits to their hometown, he brought her to their favorite spot by the lake. They were already carrying something big and beautiful together — me. I was just a tiny secret growing inside her at the time. And right there, with all that history behind them and a whole future ahead, he asked her to marry him. She cried instantly. Now, they live together — finally in the same place — raising me, and planning their wedding surrounded by the people they love. After all the miles, the years, and the memories, they’re officially saying “I do.”