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“City of Vows”

Los Angeles has a way of feeling loud and alive, even on the quiet mornings. But today, the city felt different. Softer. Slower. As if it knew something sacred was about to happen.

We didn’t need a cathedral or a ballroom. We didn’t need grand decorations or a crowd. Just the courthouse, the echo of our footsteps down the hallway, and the certainty in our hearts. Esme’s hand in mine was steady, warm, and real in a way that made everything around us blur into light.

Inside, the room was simple—white walls, polished floors, a few seats pushed neatly against the side. But when she stood beside me, that simplicity became beautiful. Her smile carried every moment we survived, every laugh we shared, every promise we whispered when no one else was listening.

When the officiant spoke, it felt like time folded in on itself. Every version of me—past, present, future—stood there hearing the words. And when I said “I do,” it wasn’t just a vow. It was a truth I’d been living long before this day arrived.

Esme’s “I do” was softer, like a breath meant only for me. But it hit with the weight of a lifetime. In that small courthouse, with Los Angeles humming faintly beyond the windows, our entire world shifted into place.

A kiss, a smile, the signing of our names. Ordinary motions on paper, extraordinary in meaning. We walked out as husband and wife with sunlight warming our backs and the city stretching before us like a brand-new chapter.

No grand exit needed. Just love—simple, certain, and ours.

"With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine"

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