I once thought love was candlelit dinners, picture-perfect moments, and excitement that never fades. But one morning, with mascara in my hand and tears on my jeans, I learned the truth.
Through a cracked door, I saw my mother gently caring for my father as cancer left him weak and hurting. No audience. No spotlight. Just quiet loyalty, tenderness, and love in its purest form.
That’s when I understood: marriage isn’t about sparkle—it’s about staying. Through pain, through storms, through the moments no one else sees. ❤️
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