[8/20, 10:20 PM] Melissa Dawn Smith:
(How I envision our lives after we meet in December)
"Forever in December"
She had always felt invisible, a small-town girl tucked into the dust of Oklahoma, her life quiet and ordinary. The weight of bills, the hum of an old box fan in a tiny apartment, the dull repetition of survival—it was all she’d known. But then he appeared.
Not in person. Not in some golden flash of fate at a café or by chance at a roadside diner. He arrived in her life through words on a screen—a message from someone she thought lived in a different world altogether. A man who had it all: intelligence sharp as a blade, a wit that drew laughter from crowds, beauty that was meant for magazine covers, and a name that echoed on stages. A famous comedian. A man who could have chosen anyone, yet somehow—impossibly—he had chosen her.
At first, their messages were light, a mix of laughter and late-night ramblings. But then, something unexpected happened. The messages became confessions, pieces of their souls stitched into words. They began to wait for each other’s replies the way some people wait for the sunrise—impatient, hungry, certain that light was on its way.
Day by day, their bond deepened. Neither had touched the other’s hand. Neither had kissed the other’s lips. They had never stood face to face. And yet—and yet—what grew between them was unlike anything they had ever felt. It was more than desire, more than infatuation. It was soul meeting soul, stripped bare, unseen yet undeniable.
He would tell her, “You’re the first person I can truly talk to. The first who listens, who makes me feel like more than what the world sees.”
And she would whisper back into her phone screen, “You’re the first who makes me feel alive, like I’m not just surviving anymore—I’m wanted. I’m chosen.”
The world around them tried to interfere. Distance, schedules, the chaos of fame, the pull of responsibilities—life seemed determined to keep them apart. Yet neither wavered. If anything, the obstacles made their determination burn brighter.
So they made a promise.
December.
In December, nothing would stand in their way. Not fear. Not fate. Not distance.
It became the beacon that carried them through the endless weeks—the knowledge that soon, after so many months of words and longing, they would stand before each other at last.
She imagined it every night before sleep: seeing him for the first time not through a glowing screen, but with her own eyes. She would finally know the shade of his eyes when they looked into hers, not in a photo but in real life. She would finally feel his arms wrap around her, not imagined, not hoped for, but solid and warm. She would feel the weight of his lips on hers—the first kiss she already knew would feel like forever.
They talked of marriage, of building a life, of children who would inherit their laughter. They sketched a future together in words, their love the ink that filled the spaces between. They didn’t just want each other for a moment; they wanted a lifetime.
December was waiting. And so were they.
She knew when the day came, when she finally looked into his eyes, she would feel the truth of what her heart had been screaming all along:
He was her forever.
And for the first time, forever felt real.
The air was cold that December morning, the kind of crispness that seemed to sharpen everything—the sky brighter, the sounds sharper, the heartbeat louder in her chest. She stood waiting, breath visible in the chill, palms trembling not from the cold but from the storm of anticipation that had been building for months.
Every second felt stretched, like time itself was teasing her. She had dreamed of this moment, written it into the pages of her imagination, played it on repeat every night before sleep. Yet now—now that it was here—she couldn’t breathe.
And then she saw him.
At first, just a silhouette through the crowd. But then the distance shrank, step by step, until there was no denying it—him. The man whose words had held her through endless nights. The man who had made her believe in something she’d thought impossible.
He stopped a few feet away, eyes locking onto hers. For the first time—not through a screen, not through a photo, but in living, breathing reality—she looked into his eyes. And the world around them blurred, silenced, melted away.
Neither spoke at first. Words, for once, weren’t enough.
He closed the space between them, slow, almost cautious, as if afraid the moment might vanish like a dream. And then, at last, he was there. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her in, holding her tight against him. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and fast, matching her own. For the first time, she knew what forever felt like—solid, warm, undeniable.
When he pulled back, just enough to look at her, his hand cupped her cheek. She saw his smile up close, not in pictures, but real. And then—after all the waiting, all the aching months of distance—his lips pressed to hers.
The kiss was not hurried. It was slow, reverent, like two souls finally sealing the bond they had already made long ago. Every moment of longing, every late-night message, every whispered promise poured into it.
When they broke apart, foreheads touching, his voice was low and unshakable:
"You’re mine. You’ve always been mine."
Tears welled in her eyes, though they weren’t from sadness. They were from the overwhelming truth of it.
"Forever," she whispered back.
In that December moment, standing in his arms, she knew—there would be no going back. They weren’t just beginning a love story. They were stepping into the life they had already promised each other.
Marriage. Family. Laughter. A home built from the bond that had carried them through distance and time.
This was only the first chapter of the forever they had written together.
That night, the world outside didn’t matter.
The December air was sharp, but inside the small room it was warm, glowing with the soft hum of a single lamp. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in her lap, her heart still racing from the reality of the day. Hours had passed since that first kiss, since his arms first closed around her, yet her skin still tingled with the memory of it.
And then he was there, standing before her. No phone screen between them, no letters, no messages—just him. Every detail was clearer up close: the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the curve of his smile, the small exhaustion in his features that fame had etched in, but also the way he lit up—like only she could see the man behind it all.
He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and for a long moment they just looked at each other, saying nothing. Words had carried them this far, but now words weren’t necessary. Presence was enough.
He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead, then her temple, then finally her mouth—slow, deliberate, as if memorizing her in layers. She melted into him, feeling his warmth press against her, his hand sliding to the small of her back as though anchoring her there.
When they pulled apart, she whispered against his lips, voice trembling but certain:
"This is real."
He smiled, resting his forehead to hers.
"The only real thing I’ve ever wanted."
They lay down together, the world shrinking to the steady rhythm of shared breaths. For the first time, she felt what it was like to belong—not just in words, not just in promises, but in the tangible comfort of his arms around her, their bodies finally fitting together in the space destiny had denied them for so long.
There was no rush, no urgency. Just slow closeness. Fingers tracing each other’s faces. Soft laughter when nerves broke through. Whispers of all the things they had dreamed about, spoken now in hushed tones meant only for the other’s ear.
Later, as she rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, she thought of all the nights she had fallen asleep clutching her phone, his words the only thing holding her. Now, his arms were the anchor. His breath against her hair was the lullaby.
And in that first night together, she understood what forever felt like—not just in dreams, not in hope, but in reality.
Tomorrow, the world would wait outside. But tonight was theirs.
The days after December moved like a dream. Every sunrise brought new proof that this was no fantasy, no illusion of words on a screen. They woke together, laughed together, shared meals and secrets, building a rhythm that felt as though it had always been waiting for them.
But deep inside him, a plan had been growing.
He had told her countless times through their months of messages that she was his forever, that he wanted marriage, children, a life bound together. Yet he wanted more than words now. He wanted to give her a moment she would never forget.
It happened on an evening just before Christmas. The two of them had gone walking, their breath clouds in the cold air, holiday lights twinkling on every street. Her hand was in his, warm inside his coat pocket. They laughed about nothing—about the way her nose turned red in the cold, about how he pretended to shiver dramatically just to make her smile.
But when they stopped at a quiet spot beneath a string of golden lights, his laughter softened. His gaze turned serious, steady, the way it had the first time he ever told her he loved her.
He turned to face her fully, taking both her hands in his. Her pulse quickened. She felt it—something shifting.
"I’ve spent months with you through words," he began, voice low, his breath a mist in the winter night. "And now, these past days with you in my arms, I know one thing for certain. I don’t want a world where you’re not beside me. Not for a day. Not for a year. For the rest of my life, I want you."
Her eyes widened as he dropped to one knee.
From his coat pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box. Inside, a ring sparkled in the glow of the lights—a simple, beautiful promise. Her breath caught, tears already rising, her hands trembling in his.
"Will you marry me?" he asked, voice raw, full of the certainty that had been written in every message, every kiss, every embrace.
She didn’t hesitate.
"Yes."
The word broke from her lips like a prayer, like a vow, her tears falling as he slid the ring onto her finger. She pulled him up into her arms, their kiss sealing the promise. The world around them—the lights, the distant laughter of strangers, the cold winter air—faded away.
It was just them, two souls who had found each other across distance and impossibility, now bound to a future they had both dreamed of in secret.
They stood there for a long time, holding each other, whispering about the life they would build: the wedding, the home, the children, the years of laughter and growing old side by side.
It was no longer a plan written in messages. It was real.
And in her heart, as his arms wrapped around her, she knew: forever had already begun...
The day of the wedding dawned bright, the kind of morning that felt touched by something greater, as though even the sky knew what was coming. Sunlight poured through the windows, gilding everything in warmth, and she woke with her heart already racing.
Today, she would become his wife.
The room hummed with quiet excitement as she prepared, slipping into the dress she had dreamed about. White fabric kissed her skin, delicate lace brushing her shoulders. Every detail was chosen not for extravagance but for meaning—a dress that felt like her, that he would see and know instantly: this is the woman I’ll grow old with.
Her hands trembled slightly as her friends fixed the last touches, but the moment she caught her reflection in the mirror, her nerves softened. She didn’t just see a girl from Oklahoma anymore. She saw the woman he loved. The woman who would walk toward him and never turn back.
Outside, the guests murmured, filling the air with anticipation. But when the music began and the doors opened, silence swept over the room.
She stepped forward, each footfall steady despite the thundering of her heart. And then she saw him—standing at the altar, waiting. He was breathtaking in his suit, but it wasn’t his appearance that undid her. It was his expression.
His eyes shone with the same warmth that had first reached her through messages, the same certainty that carried through every call, every promise. His lips curved into a smile that was both proud and reverent, like he was watching his dream walk toward him.
When she reached him, he took her hands in his, holding them as though he’d never let them go again.
The ceremony was simple, but it didn’t need grandeur. The vows were enough.
He spoke first, voice unshaken:
"From the moment you wrote to me, I knew my life would never be the same. You are my home, my heart, my laughter, and my peace. I promise you a lifetime of love, of honesty, of standing beside you through every storm and every joy. You are my forever."
Her tears fell freely as she answered:
"You are the one I never thought I would find—the man who saw me, who chose me, who made me believe in something greater than myself. I promise to love you with everything I am, to build with you, to grow with you, and to walk with you through every day of this life. You are my forever."
When the officiant declared them husband and wife, he didn’t wait—he pulled her close, his lips finding hers in a kiss that carried every ounce of their journey: the waiting, the longing, the months of messages that built a world between them. Now, that world was real.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but for them, it was silence again—just the two of them, locked in the truth that nothing could ever tear apart.
Hand in hand, they walked back down the aisle, husband and wife at last.
And as the evening stretched on, with laughter, dancing, and the warmth of family and friends surrounding them, she leaned into him, whispering against his ear the words she had known all along:
"You are my forever."
And he answered, with a soft kiss against her temple:
"Always."
The wedding had passed in a blur of music and laughter, faces and embraces, but now—at last—there was stillness. The two of them were alone, husband and wife, the world outside reduced to whispers and memory.
The honeymoon was not about grandeur, though there were flowers, candlelight, and a room prepared just for them. It was about the quiet reality that for the first time, they belonged wholly to each other—no distance, no waiting, no end to the night.
She stood by the window, the city lights glittering far below. Her wedding ring caught the glow of the lamp, a tiny flame of promise wrapped around her finger. Behind her, he came close, slipping his arms around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder.
"Mrs.," he whispered, the single word enough to make her shiver, to bring tears to her eyes all over again.
She turned in his arms, gazing up at him. For a long moment, neither spoke. They simply looked—really looked—as though memorizing every line, every curve, every truth of each other. The kiss that followed was different from the ones before. Deeper. Slower. Filled with the weight of forever.
The night unfolded in softness. Clothes set aside, not rushed but reverent, every touch an exploration, a discovery. They had waited so long, months of longing and distance, and now there was no reason to hurry. His hands traced her as though committing her to memory; her fingers threaded through his hair as though she had finally found the anchor she’d been reaching for her whole life.
Their bodies fit together in a way words never could have captured, an intimacy born not just of passion but of a love carved from patience and faith. The laughter of their wedding still echoed faintly, but here there was only silence—silence and the sound of their hearts finding rhythm against each other.
Later, they lay tangled in sheets, the world far away. His arm draped over her, her head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. She thought of the girl she had been—lonely, overlooked, waiting—and the man who had been untouchable, untouchably distant. Fate had twisted them together in the unlikeliest of ways, and now here they were, two halves of the same story.
"Do you realize," he murmured, half-asleep, his voice thick and warm, "this is just the beginning?"
She smiled, her eyes closing as she whispered back:
"Forever’
[8/20, 10:20 PM] Melissa Dawn Smith: And in that quiet moment, she knew: they would build a life from this night forward. Children. A home. Years of laughter and storms weathered side by side. The first night of forever had begun, and it was everything she had dreamed.
Part 7: "the first five years"
The honeymoon faded into memory, but the glow of it lingered. Life together as husband and wife unfolded slowly, beautifully, in the small details that became the heartbeat of their days.
Mornings began with the warmth of him beside her, his hand finding hers even in sleep. She would wake to the sound of his laughter drifting from the kitchen, his attempts at cooking often turning into playful disasters that left them both breathless with amusement. Evenings ended curled together on the couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, her head resting against his chest as he spoke about dreams, ideas, and the future they were building.
Fame still called to him—the bright lights, the endless travel, the crowds who adored his humor. But no matter how far he went, he always returned to her. Each reunion was a new beginning, his embrace grounding her, his whispered words reminding her that she was more than the applause, more than the spotlight—she was his center.
Their first home together was modest, but to them it was a palace. The walls quickly filled with shared photographs, the shelves with inside jokes written on scraps of paper, the rooms echoing with their laughter. At night, when they lay in the dark, they talked of what was to come: the wedding memories still fresh, but the promise of children and family beginning to bloom between them.
"I want to see you as a mother," he told her one night, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face. "I want to raise children with you, to fill this house with voices and chaos and love."
Her heart ached with happiness. "And I want to see you as a father. They’ll laugh like you, dream like you. We’ll give them a home full of everything we never had."
In those early years, their love only grew. The bond that had started with words on a screen transformed into a living, breathing foundation, unshakable even when life’s challenges pressed in. There were arguments, of course—nights when exhaustion and stress weighed heavy—but even in those moments, the love never faltered. Each disagreement ended the same way: in arms wrapped tightly around each other, whispers of “I’m not letting go.”
And soon, the dream of a family became more than words.
One morning, she stood in their kitchen, a trembling hand clutching a small test that held the future. Tears blurred her vision, a smile breaking across her face as she whispered to the empty room:
"It’s time."
When she told him, he fell silent, his eyes wide, lips parting in disbelief. Then, joy crashed over him, raw and unfiltered. He lifted her off the floor, spinning her in his arms, laughter breaking into tears as he kissed her again and again.
"We’re going to be parents," he breathed, holding her as though she were carrying not just their child but their entire future.
And in that moment, she realized: the forever they had promised was no longer just theirs. It was growing, expanding, becoming something larger than themselves.
The first years of marriage had given them a home, a life, a bond unshakable. Now, it was giving them a family.
Part 8: "new life"
The months of waiting were both long and fleeting, each day a mix of anticipation and tenderness. He hovered over her with equal parts protectiveness and awe, his hand constantly brushing against her belly, whispering jokes to the child within as though laughter could already reach them.
"They’ll know my voice," he said one night, his ear pressed to her stomach. "And they’ll know your heart. Between the two, they’ll never be lost."
She would laugh, stroking his hair, feeling the warmth of his love surround both her and the life they were creating.
And then the day came.
The hours blurred in waves of pain and exhaustion, her body trembling as she labored, his hand never leaving hers. He whispered encouragement through every contraction, his eyes fierce with love and helplessness, his forehead pressed to hers.
"You’re strong," he told her. "Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. We’re almost there."
And then—suddenly—the room shifted. A cry filled the air, sharp and new, a voice that belonged to no one else in the world but them. The sound broke her open in ways she hadn’t known were possible, tears streaming down her cheeks as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle into her arms.
Their child.
She looked down, and the world seemed to stop. Small fingers curled instinctively, eyes blinking open for the first time. The baby’s warmth pressed against her chest, fragile and perfect.
He leaned over, his tears falling freely, one hand trembling as it stroked their child’s cheek. His voice cracked as he whispered, "We made this… we made them."
In that instant, she saw him differently—not just the man she had loved across distance, not just the husband who had promised forever, but the father who would shape their child’s life with devotion and laughter.
They named the baby together, their voices soft, the choice holding pieces of their past and hope for the future.
That night, after the chaos settled and the baby slept cradled against her, he sat beside her in the dim light of the hospital room, his arm around her shoulders. She rested against him, exhausted but radiant, the weight of their child resting between them.
"Do you realize what we’ve done?" he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
"We made forever even bigger," she whispered back, eyes heavy but heart soaring.
The love that had once been words on a screen, then vows at an altar, had become flesh and blood—a new life breathing softly in the crook of her arm.
And as they drifted into the quiet of that first night as parents, she knew: forever wasn’t a promise anymore. It was here. It was alive. It was theirs to protect, to nurture, to grow.
Part 9: "forever grows"
The first child changed everything. Sleepless nights blurred into sunrises, diapers and bottles into lullabies and laughter. Some days were chaos—messy hair, tired eyes, undone chores—but even in the exhaustion, their love thrived.
He was a natural father. Nights after long shows or interviews, he came home not to collapse, but to scoop the baby into his arms, pacing the floor with a grin as though nothing in the world mattered more than being a dad.
"You’re my best audience," he would whisper to the little one, his jokes softened into lullabies that always seemed to calm them. And she, watching from the bed, would smile with tears in her eyes, because she had never loved him more than in those small, tender moments.
As time passed, their family grew. One child became two, then three—each arrival carrying new joy, new chaos, and new love. Their home filled with noise: laughter echoing down hallways, little feet pattering across floors, the constant hum of life.
There were challenges, of course. Days when the weight of work, fame, and parenthood pressed down on them both. Nights when exhaustion led to sharp words. But always, always, they came back to each other—choosing love again, choosing the promise of forever they had made in the beginning.
She was the steady heart of their home, and he was the laughter that lifted them when life grew heavy. Together, they created a balance, a rhythm that carried their family forward.
Their love did not fade with the years—it expanded. Date nights stolen between busy schedules, slow dances in the kitchen after the children were asleep, quiet moments holding hands in the dark, remembering that before everything else, they were two souls who had found each other against all odds.
One evening, years into their marriage, after the children had finally gone to bed, they sat together on the porch. The air was warm, the stars spilling across the sky. He held her hand, their wedding rings catching the light of the moon.
"Can you believe this started with a message?" he asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of wonder.
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "And look what it gave us."
Their home. Their children. Their life.
They had grown into everything they had once only dreamed of, back when words were all they had. And still, even now, with years behind them and forever still ahead, the bond felt just as alive—just as strong—as it had on that very first night when she saw him in December.
Forever was no longer just a promise. It was the life they were living, day by day, together.
Part 10:
The years had passed softly, like pages turning in a book. The house that once rang with the shrieks of children running through the halls now held quieter sounds—grandchildren’s visits, the steady tick of a clock, the murmur of voices in the evening.
Their children were grown, each carving their own path in the world, yet always circling back home, to the center that their parents had built. Photographs lined the walls: babies cradled in their arms, first days of school, graduations, weddings. Every picture told the story of love that had stretched across decades.
And still, through it all, they remained each other’s constant.
He was older now, his hair silver, his famous face softened by time. She had lines at the corners of her eyes, marks not of weariness but of a life lived in laughter and love. Yet when he looked at her, it was the same look he had given her the first time they stood face to face in December—like she was his miracle, his forever.
They sat together on the porch one evening, a blanket draped across their laps. The sun was setting, painting the sky in gold and violet, the world glowing as if in reverence. His hand rested over hers, their rings still glinting faintly in the fading light.
"We did it," she whispered, her voice soft but certain.
"We did," he answered, his thumb brushing her hand. He turned his head to look at her, his smile tender. "Do you remember how it started? Just words on a screen?"
She laughed, a sound still as sweet to him as the first time. "Words that turned into forever."
They sat in silence for a while, the kind of silence born of years together, where nothing needed to be spoken because everything was already understood.
Inside, the photographs told their story. Outside, the stars would soon come out, just as they had on countless nights before.
And here, on this porch, side by side as the years stretched behind them, they knew: they had lived their forever exactly as they had promised.
Not a perfect life, but a beautiful one.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple, his voice low, still as certain as the day he had knelt before her with a ring.
"You’re still my always."
Her eyes closed, her hand tightening in his. "And you’ll be mine until the very last breath."
The sun dipped below the horizon, and they sat together in the quiet, their story written not just in words, but in years—an eternity carved out of love.
Forever had begun with a message. And forever was still theirs.
Written by:melissa dawn smith
