I still haven’t figured out why she said yes. Sometimes I look at her and wonder what kind of cosmic miscalculation brought her into my crooked little universe. I’m no prince charming, no polished gentleman with a pocket full of promises and a future wrapped in golden ribbon. I’m a collection of peculiar habits, unfinished thoughts, sarcastic remarks, restless nights, and a heart that occasionally forgets how to behave. I’ve got more rough edges than a barbed-wire fence and enough baggage to require its own damn airport terminal. Yet somehow, she looked at this beautifully dysfunctional specimen of humanity and said yes. I keep searching for the hidden clause, the fine print, the moment she might wake up and realize she’s accidentally adopted a grown man with the emotional vocabulary of a wandering poet and the common sense of a drunken raccoon. But she stays. And maybe that’s the greatest mystery of all. I don’t know what she sees when she looks at me, but I hope she never stops looking long enough to figure out what the hell she’s gotten herself into.