“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” — Audrey Hepburn
Dearest Kannalu,
One month.
It’s funny how quickly “my wife” has become the most natural thing in the world to say.
For so many years, you were my best friend. Then you became the person I loved. Now you’re the person I wake up next to, work beside, annoy throughout the day, and end every evening with.
Somehow, that still feels surreal.
When people think about marriage, they usually think about the wedding day.
But I don’t think that’s what I’ll remember most.
I’ll remember us sitting across from each other with our laptops open, pretending to work while one of us inevitably starts a conversation.
I’ll remember us randomly opening geography quizzes and becoming unnecessarily competitive over countries, capitals, and flags. We both love maps, and I smile every time we end up talking about places we want to visit one day. I hope, over the years, we slowly turn those pins on a map into memories we’ve actually lived together.
I’ll remember us trying new recipes, making a mess in the kitchen, tasting food halfway through cooking, and convincing ourselves that everything tastes better simply because we made it together.
I’ll remember our evening walks around the society. Some days we’d talk about the future. Some days we’d complain about work. Some days we’d just walk in comfortable silence. Somehow, even those ordinary walks became something I’d look forward to.
I’ll remember us learning to swim together.
Watching you go from being nervous in the water to picking it up so quickly made me ridiculously proud. I loved being able to teach you, but what surprised me even more was how fast you learned. Before I knew it, you were doing things that took me much longer to get comfortable with.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the smile on your face every time you realised, “Hey… I can actually do this.”
I’ll remember our evening scooty rides.
You in your cute little helmet. Me trying to decide where we should stop next. Sometimes it was Vada Pav. Sometimes Bamboloni. Sometimes Nani Tiffins. Sometimes we’d just park somewhere, walk around for a bit, and head back home.
None of it was planned.
And somehow, that’s exactly what made those evenings so perfect.
And the afternoon naps…
I genuinely didn’t know two people could be so enthusiastic about an afternoon nap.
Somehow we’d both convince each other that “just twenty minutes” was a great idea, only to wake up much later wondering what day it was.
I don’t think either of us is complaining.
This month has also made me appreciate something else.
You.
Starting a new life isn’t easy.
A new home.
New routines.
New people.
The constant back and forth between our families.
Shopping for a hundred little things we didn’t even know we’d need.
Trying to make two lives feel like one.
It’s a lot.
I’ve watched you step into all of it with so much patience and strength. You probably don’t even realise how much I notice the little things. The effort you put in. The way you quietly adapt. The way you care about making everyone around you feel comfortable.
I’m really proud of you.
Thank you for making this transition look far easier than it probably felt.
One thing I’ve realised this month is that I don’t need extraordinary moments to feel happy anymore.
A quiet evening with you somehow feels like a good day.
Cooking together feels like an event.
A walk feels like quality time.
Even sitting in the same room doing completely different things feels… enough.
Maybe that’s what home actually is.
Not a place.
A person.
If one month already has this many memories, I honestly can’t imagine what one year, ten years, or fifty years will look like.
More countries on our travel list.
More geography quizzes.
More recipes we’ll probably get wrong before getting them right.
More scooty rides without a destination.
More parks.
More snacks.
More afternoon naps.
More evening walks.
More ordinary days that we’ll probably forget individually but somehow remember together.
Fourteen years ago, we became close friends.
Three years ago, we fell in love.
One month ago, we got married.
And somehow, this first month has made me realise something.
I spent years looking forward to the big milestones — graduation, my first job, promotions, getting married.
But I think the happiest part of life isn’t the milestones.
It’s this.
A random Tuesday where we’re both working from home.
A walk after dinner.
A geography quiz.
A scooty ride to grab a snack.
A lazy afternoon nap.
A quiet evening where nothing particularly exciting happens… except that I get to spend it with you.
I hope we never stop finding joy in these little moments.
Because I have a feeling that one day, when we’re old and looking back, these are the moments we’ll miss the most.
Happy one month, Kannalu.
Thank you for making this first month so full of laughter, warmth, patience, adventures, and countless little memories.
I love you.
Always, Gautham
July 2026