Our story began in the summer of 2018, guided by fate and the unwavering dedication of a wonderful family. For over a year, they insisted we should meet — seemingly convinced we would be a ‘good fit’. A beautiful idea, except for one tiny logistical nightmare: we lived on different continents.

Most sensible adults would have laughed politely and moved on. We didn’t. Instead, we started chatting on WhatsApp, strictly as friends (or so we told ourselves). That autumn, one of us planned a trip to Europe — with what she diplomatically called “a few stops along the way,” one of them being the UK. We both knew exactly what it was. One meeting. One conversation that felt like coming home to someone you’d never met. One undeniable spark. And one hotel in Norfolk where we lowered the average age of the residents by at least 20 years (and yet, miraculously, she stayed).

In that moment, the ocean between us stopped being an impossibility and became just another thing we’d figure out together. What followed was a love story written in boarding passes and suitcase weight limits (hers I hasten to add!). In airport goodbyes that broke our hearts every single time. In becoming Avianca’s most devoted frequent flyers (they should’ve given us shares). We learned to build a life across time zones, held together by 3 AM video calls, unwavering faith, and the bone-deep certainty that this — us — was worth every mile.

Then 2020 happened. The world stopped. The planes stopped. Over a year apart — no flights, no touch, no more moments of just being together. Just two people on opposite sides of the world, holding on with video calls and phone calls and the kind of ache that rewrites what you thought you knew about missing someone. But we didn’t let go. We chose each other, over and over, across every impossible kilometer.

Seven years later. Countless flights. Endless goodbyes. Immeasurable love. We finally knew: it was time to stop saying goodbye and start saying good morning in the same place, every single day — well, most days. This adventure has a way of keeping us on both continents, and we’ve learned that it’s simply part of our story.

In Cartagena, at Restaurante Carmen, surrounded by magic and the kind of warmth that only the Caribbean knows how to give, one of us attempted to get down on one knee (his knees vetoed the plan, but the intention was there) and presented a ring designed exactly as she’d always imagined it; because apparently, someone really had been paying attention all these years, imagine that!. The answer? It came in a hand that reached without hesitation, the eyes said everything before words could, in a “yes” that had been growing for seven years and between two continents.

And now, the real adventure begins: wedding planning (we survived long distance, surely we can survive this… right?).

We cannot wait to celebrate our love — this stubborn, patient, ridiculous, beautiful, across-oceans kind of love — with all of you.