She had been dating him for three months when he first mentioned marriage. They were lying in bed together, tangled in the sheets, the afterglow of intimacy still warm on their skin. He traced his fingers along her arm and said, "I can see myself marrying you someday." Her heart leaped. She had been thinking the same thing, but she had been too afraid to say it out loud. Hearing him voice the thought made it real, made it possible, made it feel like they were building something together. She smiled, kissed him, and whispered, "Me too."
Over the next few weeks, the future talk intensified. He talked about the house they would buy, the children they would have, the travels they would take. He described their wedding, the music they would dance to, the vows they would exchange. He painted a picture of a life together, a beautiful, detailed, intoxicating picture. She began to plan her life around this future, making decisions based on the assumption that they would be together forever. She introduced him to her parents. She started looking at engagement rings. She gave him her whole heart, confident that he would protect it.
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