Our story started like many others, as a friendship that slowly grew into love. But it wasn’t always easy.
We first met ten years ago in February, when we were just teenagers. It was at a school event about public safety. We were split into groups, and I ended up with a boy named Manny. He was late and wore an oversized hoodie and Pac-Man pajamas. He kept shooting Nerf darts at my group while we waited for our rides. Honestly, I thought he was annoying. That night, we didn’t talk much except about the event, and then we went our separate ways.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
A few years later, I was 17 and Manny was 16. He had just come back to my school after being gone for a while. Every time we met, it felt like we were old friends catching up. During my senior year and his junior year, we started spending more time together, especially at youth group events. I thought of him as my best friend.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
One night at prom, I heard Manny would be late because he was grounded, and he was going with another girl. I was surprised by the envy that crept up inside me.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
When Manny finally arrived, his girlfriend ignored him, and they ended up arguing. I joined Manny, and we had a great time together that night.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
After prom, we messaged more often. We shared a love of music and both had our first jobs, he worked at Chick-Fil-A, and I worked at McDonald’s. Our connection grew stronger. Our friends started teasing us about liking each other, but we didn’t admit it yet.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
Then, in November 2013, Manny asked me out on our first date. He planned a church hayride, but I’m allergic to hay. I told him just before, but I still wanted to go. Manny was careful, shielding me with his arm the whole time. It was the best hayride experience I ever had. During that year, I had the honor of accompanying him to prom.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
Growing up, I heard some family members make hurtful racist jokes. I’m Lebanese, and Manny is African American and Hispanic, but I never cared about skin color. What mattered was who he was inside. When we started dating, I was told not to tell my grandparents because they didn’t approve of interracial relationships. We were told at school to keep our feelings private and not display any affection.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
Our friends drifted away, but we stayed strong.
Sometimes it was tough, and we thought about giving up. But we knew we were meant for each other. We became each other’s support when no one else was there. The hard times only made us closer.
One evening, I lost my footing on the ice, and Manny was there to steady me.
We stood looking at the clear sky, and he said, “Never forget this moment.” I never will.
In December 2014, Manny proposed, and we married in February 2015. Soon after, we moved into our own apartment and found out I was pregnant with our first child.
Despite my grandparents’ initial disapproval, Manny showed them love. My grandfather apologized and promised to stop the hurtful talk. In August, we welcomed our baby, and now we have two boys. Manny is training to join the U.S. Army, a dream he’s had for years. I’m proud of him and our journey.
Courtesy of Emily Burden
Our struggles only made our love and faith stronger. Love isn’t about the color of your skin. When the right person comes into your life, cherish them deeply. Even when others show hate or skepticism, let love be your choice every time.
