Read top to bottom. Every figure comes from the family calendar, the travel log, and the box of ticket stubs kept in the hallway closet.
In 2021, an eleven-week deployment and a miscarriage landed in the same season. They spent it writing letters instead of talking — the first time in nine years they'd gone quiet with each other.
A rooftop birthday party in Lisbon, 2014. Daniel spilled a drink on Elena's shoe and apologized in the wrong language.
Elena followed Daniel to Denver in 2015 — two suitcases, one folding table, and a lease neither could really afford.
June 14, 2016, in her grandmother's courtyard. Sixty-two guests, a broken folding chair, vows written the night before.
2021: deployment, distance, and a loss neither spoke about for months. They chose to stay anyway.
2022 onward: Mateo, then Sofia, the house on Birch Street, and the Thursday dates that never stopped.
They didn't stay together because it was easy. They stayed because every single time, they chose to come back.
Saturday, June 14, 2026 — the same courtyard, again, at 5pm.
One photo or one story from any year of the ten. We'll read a few aloud.
No gifts — just the people who watched this story happen.