“Wait… you’re really dating Alan? He has Down syndrome.”
That was the sentence that followed us the moment people recognized us together again. It wasn’t always spoken with cruelty, but it was always filled with assumptions — assumptions about limits, about capability, about what love is supposed to look like. They remembered Alan only as he was in kindergarten: the quiet boy who sat beside me every day, the boy who held my hand on the playground, who saved me a seat without being asked, who followed me through hallways with complete trust. To them, he was a shadow. To me, he was comfort, safety, and belonging.
We were inseparable until life intervened. My family moved away, childhood slipped quietly into memory, and time carried us forward without warning. Years passed. School ended. Responsibilities grew. Life unfolded in ways neither of us could have predicted. And yet, somehow, love remembered.
We found each other again years later at a community event — by chance, or maybe by fate. Alan’s smile hadn’t changed. When he said my name, it was as if no time had passed at all. There was no awkwardness, no distance, no explanation needed. We talked. Then we met again, on purpose. Conversations turned into coffee, coffee into shared plans, and plans into something steady, intentional, and deeply meaningful. What began as two children sitting side by side slowly became two adults choosing one another with clarity and certainty.
Some people questioned our relationship. They asked if it would be “too hard,” if the future would be “complicated,” if love like ours could last. We never asked those questions. Alan showed up early to every plan, remembered every important date, and loved with a consistency many people never learn in a lifetime. His love was patient, loyal, and whole — not loud or performative, but unwavering and real.
Today, I married the boy who once held my hand in kindergarten, and the man he grew into — a man who loves without fear, without conditions, and without apology. Our story is not about proving anyone wrong. It is about choosing truth over judgment, connection over labels, and love over doubt. Because love does not need permission. It does not need explanations. It simply needs two people brave enough to believe in it — and stay.