We met for coffee after matching online. He had a tattoo I assumed was for an ex—my heart dropped. But when he told me it was for his twin sister, everything shifted. I saw his heart. A veteran with quiet strength, he made me smile like no one ever had. I was just starting my Master’s, and he stood by me through every challenge. He proposed on my birthday, and we married 7-7-17—no white dress, no big wedding—just two souls choosing each other completely.

I’ve cried in his arms after a miscarriage, sobbed over losing my grandma from thousands of miles away—and he never left my side. When I panicked with a flat tire on the way to a wedding, he told me, “Just come—I’ll handle the rest.” He makes me laugh until I can’t breathe and holds me when I can’t speak. And still, I look at him and wonder how I got so lucky. My favorite memory? Every moment he proves love is showing up again and again.

After a miscarriage in early 2023, we’ve been trying to grow our family for over two years—with no success yet. Fertility care in the U.S. is painfully expensive, but we keep holding onto hope. We’d use the $20,000 to help us on that journey. And if a miracle comes soon, we’ll use it for our baby instead. We’ve cried, we’ve prayed, and we keep choosing hope—because love built this family, and we believe it’s not done growing.