Chapter 10
Dear Reality,
We had our first fight. As I write this, I realize it was stupid, and that, even now, I don’t really know why we were fighting in the first place.
One moment, we were tired and quiet, the next, we were sharp with each other.
Every added word landed wrong, and the silence grew louder than it had any right to be.
It wasn’t about anything real. Not really.
Just exhaustion, stress, too many bills, and far too little money. But it still hurt.
What scared me most wasn’t the fight itself. It was the way my chest tightened with the old fear whispering that this is how things start to fall apart. Arguments create cracks you can’t fix. Fights make people walk out of your life. This is the beginning of being alone again.
I hate how fast my mind went there… How quickly my past tried to convince me that one bad moment could undo everything good we’ve been building together.
But then… he didn’t walk away. He didn’t shut down and push me out.
We sat there, quiet and frustrated, until the anger softened.
We apologized. Not dramatically, not perfectly…
but honestly. He pulled me into his arms like he always does and held me until I realized he wasn’t going anywhere.
He squeezed me until I knew this wasn’t the end of everything.
And suddenly, I understood something I’d never experienced before… Love isn’t the absence of conflict, but how you deal with it after.
We’re human. We’re tired. We’re learning how to live as a couple. And tonight proved that we won’t always get it right. It might be bumpy and rough, but in the end, we’ll choose each other, anyway.
October 9th
Dear Forever,
I’m still not sure whether I’m awake or dreaming.
Easton proposed.
It was casual, but he proposed with intention, with thought, and with all the quiet certainty that made me fall for him in the first place.
And somehow, even though I’ve known my heart was his for months, even though I’ve lived and breathed this love every day since that first taco-on-the-curb night, my legs nearly gave out when he knelt in front of me.
It wasn’t on some grand stage, with music and lights and strangers watching.
It was in my tiny apartment—the same one I moved into thinking I could survive on my own.
The same one that is now filled with his things as much as it is mine.
He held my hand, looked into my eyes, and for a moment, the city outside faded entirely.
The traffic, the honking horns, the late-night shouts from the street below—all of it vanished.
It was just him and me, and the quiet pulse of everything we’ve built together.
He didn’t just ask me to marry him. He made me feel every reason why he loves me, why he’s chosen me, and every dream he has of the life he wants to build with me.
His words weren’t rehearsed, but they were perfect.
Tender and commanding at the same time—the same way he is when he’s with me.
When he spoke, it was like time slowed down so I could hold on to every syllable and memorize every word of this moment.
And when he opened the box… I think I forgot how to breathe for a second.
The ring is simple, not flashy, but it caught the light in the way I imagine he catches mine every day…
effortlessly, naturally, as if it was always meant to be.
And then he asked the question—those four words that somehow feel like a lifetime of hope wrapped up into one single moment—I could barely speak.
Not because I didn’t know the answer, but because the answer was bigger than any words could hold.
My answer came out as a jumble of giggles and tears. But the way he smiled, like the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, he knew. It was like he’d been waiting all six months we’ve been together to hear me say it.
We spent the rest of the night holding each other, talking in quiet whispers, and imagining a future I never thought I’d have.
A future, I can’t imagine living without now.
We made plans and shared our dreams for the life we could build together.
Talks of a home and someday a family made this little apartment feel even smaller because it holds so much love and hope.
I never thought I’d be the kind of person who could love this completely, who could let someone in so fully and trust that love in return. Yet, here I am so completely, irreversibly, undeniably in love that my heart feels too full to contain itself.
I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know when we’ll set a date, or how many late-night runs to the taco truck that brought us here we’ll share before the wedding.
But I do know that whatever chaos, mistakes, or imperfect moments life throws at us, we’ll face them together.
Because this—this love, this bond, this life we’ve started building—is worth every risk, every fear, every sleepless night, and every heart-stopping moment leading up to it.
October 16th
Dear Mrs. Easton Shaw,
THAT’S ME! I’m Mrs. Easton Shaw!
I still can’t believe it. Somehow, the words feel both impossibly big and perfectly natural at the same time. We couldn’t wait. The idea of putting this love on pause, of waiting for a “right time” or a “perfect day,” felt absurd. So… we didn’t.
We went to the courthouse. Since neither of us has families to invite or share this with, we shared it with each other and his bandmates, who served as our witnesses, cheering quietly from the sidelines.
Easton calls them family, so I guess they’re my family now.
The ceremony was quick and simple. We exchanged rings, vows were whispered between laughter and nervous smiles, and the judge said the words that made us official.
And in that tiny room, on a regular Wednesday, my heart felt like it could burst.
I’ve never experienced anything so simultaneously ordinary and extraordinary.
Holding his hand and seeing him look at me with that same steady mix of tenderness and certainty he always has, it was like stepping into a life I didn’t know I was waiting for but always needed.
There wasn’t music or flowers or any of the theatrics you see in movies.
But there was magic and love, making it perfect in a way no grand wedding ever could have.
Afterward, we walked out together, our rings shining and fingers intertwined. We joked, teased, and made promises only we could understand. And though the city around us moved on, we paused for a moment in that tiny reality of ours, feeling entirely, unshakably complete.
I’m MRS. EASTON SHAW. It’s surreal to write it down, to say it aloud. But it’s real and sweeter than any future I could have dreamed.
Rosie Callahan Shaw