It was December 2016, and we were both about ready to give up on dating apps. Then we matched. Our first messages came easy—talking about everything from his favorite indie games to her obsession with finding the perfect shade of cerulean blue. When Eric suggested meeting at a Vietnamese restaurant, Jane said yes before she could overthink it. **Jane's side:** I got there first and immediately regretted wearing heels. When Eric walked in, he was somehow exactly like his photos but better—nervous smile, slightly rumpled button-down, warm presence. We ordered pho and talked for three hours straight. The restaurant staff started stacking chairs around us before we finally noticed. **Eric's side:** I was terrified I'd be late, so I showed up exactly on time to find Jane already there looking beautiful and composed while I was a bundle of nerves. But the moment we started talking, everything felt natural. When the waiters started giving us looks, I realized I didn't want the night to end. The next few years flew by. Eric supported Jane through grad school, and we traveled whenever we could. Then 2020 happened, and our small apartment became our entire world. We learned each other's quirks: Eric needs silence for video calls, Jane needs music to paint. He can't cook, she can't fix tech problems. One night on our tiny balcony, Eric looked at Jane and thought, "If we can survive a pandemic in 600 square feet, we can survive anything." Three months later, he proposed on a hiking trail from our second date. She said yes before he could finish asking. Now we're building a life together—his tech career supporting her freelance art, her creativity reminding him there's more to life than screens. We can't wait to celebrate with all of you. — Jane & Eric