We first connected while he was visiting New York. I was at a Knicks game, and he was out supporting a friend’s show. We didn’t get the chance to meet in person then, but we stayed in touch, and soon our conversations turned into late-night FaceTimes that went until three in the morning, even on nights I had class for my master’s program. From the very beginning, he’d tell me, “You’re going to be my wife one day.” I’d laugh it off, but he meant it, and he kept his promise. After three months of talking, he finally came back to New York, and we met in front of his hotel on 13th Street. From that moment on, we took turns flying back and forth, I’d go to Chicago one month, he’d come to New York the next. By the end of that year, he decided to move to New York full-time. And now, here we are, building our life together in the city where it all began.

He proposed in the most meaningful place, right in front of the hotel where we first met. We were on our way to New Jersey when he suggested stopping for a quick bite, not knowing he had an entirely different plan in mind. After we ate, he led me outside, and there it was, a heart made of roses waiting for us. Before I could even take it all in, he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him, right where our story first began.