Category Archives: Relationship

companionship, love, Relationship

In Your Presence

A few days ago, I was asked to share and bear my testimony with my brother and sister-in-law while teaching a lesson with the missionaries on the Restoration of the Gospel. While this is deeply personal, I want to share my most recent testimony of how our Heavenly Father truly works in mysterious ways.

I was in a decade-long relationship with someone I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. Whenever something went wrong, I prayed for the strength to forgive, hoping to keep our flame alive. But over time, my prayers began to change.

In the last two years before I stepped away, I started praying that the strength I was asking for would no longer be to fix us, but to fix me — and to open doors where I could grow, because I had been standing on the same plateau for so long.

On my 30th birthday, things began to unfold. I was experiencing contention with my partner, and I prayed that if things were meant to remain the same, please don’t let me keep forgiving just to survive — help me move forward instead. Just when I was starting to forgive again, another whirlwind came through and became the final straw that gently pushed my heart away. The love I thought I could renew vanished that day. I tried, but the resentment was too heavy to carry.

When I realized I was no longer a priority, I understood that I no longer had a purpose to serve in that relationship. So I slowly eased my way out. I prayed, knowing I would miss the memories, and I asked Heavenly Father to replace them with something new.

Unexpectedly, I was set up to meet someone I had seen a few times before, but never officially until that day. At first, I didn’t want to meet him because I was still sorting through my feelings, but I felt it wouldn’t hurt to simply be friends. After that, we didn’t talk much, and he rarely crossed my mind. I didn’t see him as a rebound — I kept everything loose, pure, and simple.

When I was slowly getting over my past relationship, I still wasn’t seeking anything new. But as if we needed a gentle push together, a friend reconnected with me and began planning small hangouts for us. We were supposed to have dinner, but time kept slipping away. Later, he approached me at a baptism and kindly said that if I didn’t feel comfortable with dinner, I could tell him and he would let my friend know. Of course, I wasn’t uncomfortable at all — our schedules just never aligned.

So I made the move to ask for his number and planned something myself. I wanted to be respectful of his time, knowing how hard he works.

I only get to see him on Sundays, and it didn’t dawn on me that he would become someone I came to cherish. We visited the Asia Mall, talked about his time in the National Guard, his love for Japan and anime, and then came a turning point — me giving him a tour of the Mall of America because he had never been there in the four years he had lived in the state.

We walked for hours, laughing, getting a little lost, and taking everything in like kids in a new place. When it was time to eat, I instinctively reached for my wallet, but he gently stopped me and insisted on paying for dinner. It wasn’t the money that stayed with me — it was the intention. The quiet way he cared without making a scene, simply wanting to take care of the moment. I felt my heart soften in ways I hadn’t expected.

He is sweet — a true gentleman, opening and closing my car door even when I tell him I don’t need him to. I have been independent for so long that it feels strange to experience kindness from a man, even when he is simply being polite.

It didn’t start there, though, where he began to quietly intrude into my thoughts. He donated generously to our youth fundraiser and was always sincere and genuine in the things he said and did. He truly began to catch my attention when I took him out to dinner for his birthday. We went for sushi — which surprised me, since I’m not even a fan — and for once he confidently chose a place instead of saying, “It doesn’t matter.” That night, I started paying attention: his body language, the little details, the things I might come to like about him.

Then came a quiet moment — a minute of eye contact that felt suspended in time. I tried to break the gaze, but I was speechless, and it seemed like he wanted to say something too. We just sat there, awkward and silent, and somehow that moment changed everything.

While we don’t talk every day, we share small conversations as we pass each other at events. He notices the little things — why I separate my food and dessert a certain way, why I like things arranged just so. We steal glances across the room. He gives a small salute every time he greets me. I came to find him adorable: how he questions ingredients when all I want to do is eat, how he talks about investments and being wise with finances, and even his nervous laugh that becomes contagious.

Before I knew it, he was quietly present in my thoughts throughout the day. And I had to remind myself to be careful — that maybe he was too good, and that I should leave space so neither of us would get hurt.

Coming to know him has brightened my days, even when the skies are gray. When I prayed for joy to overcome sorrow, he became part of that answer. I forgot how to cry, how to feel overwhelmed, even when life felt unsettled. He felt like a quiet companion the Spirit placed beside me — healing I didn’t know was waiting until I was ready to receive it.

All of this was what I had asked the Lord for when I finally chose to walk away without looking back, trusting that I would be blessed with greater things. And I have been. Still, I don’t know how long this season will last, so I keep my heart gentle and my distance kind. I enjoy his presence, but I also want to keep us safe.

There’s a saying that if you love a flower, you do not pick it — you let it continue to bloom in beauty so you may admire it from afar. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I did pick that flower. But for now, I am learning to watch, to trust, and to let Heavenly Father guide whatever is meant to grow.

With him, I am learning why the Bible says love is patient and love is kind. Our progression may seem slow to others, but it feels perfect for our timing. I allow him his space and he allows me mine. Though we have yet to have our next outing, I want him to know how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know him — so much that I want to reintroduce myself without fear or guarded walls.

I quietly count the days until he returns from his travels so that we may connect again. I miss his presence, especially since it’s only at the end of the week that I get to see him — so close, yet so far away.

I will be waiting for your return.

With much love,

Ang🌸

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letter, love, Relationship

Through The Closure

I remember the morning I finally gathered the courage to leave. It wasn’t a sudden storm, just the slow folding of a truth I had carried too long.

For years, I lived with the ache of feeling like something easily set aside—present, but never fully chosen. Every memory felt sharp, a weight I didn’t know where to set down. I spent so much time trying to be “enough” that I forgot I was already whole. But distance has a way of softening edges. I see now that our time was never meant to be permanent. Some connections exist as crossings, not homes—places we pass through to learn what we need before moving on. We were mirrors for one another, reflecting the pieces of ourselves we weren’t yet ready to embrace.

I want to untangle any lingering sense of obligation or debt. Holding on sometimes hurts more than letting go, and staying would have been a subtle betrayal of who we were becoming. Space became necessary for both of us to grow in ways we couldn’t while standing side by side. When the ending couldn’t be named, I named it. And if that makes me the “villain” who broke the silence, I carry it lightly, knowing I stayed as long as I could with an honest heart, loving you until the moment I had to start loving myself more.

I am grateful for what we shared. Those years were not wasted—they were lessons, tender and sometimes sharp. Loving you showed me the breadth of my own capacity, a gift I carry with me. I hope that, in time, we each find steadier ground—people who meet us as we are now, in all our unpolished, messy truths, not as the versions of ourselves we once tried so hard to become.

I thought this ending would undo me. I imagined solitude as a cavern I could not escape. But instead, it opened something delicate and bright. There is a steady, gentle joy in finally choosing myself, in learning that the only person I need to make peace with is the one in the mirror. I am discovering how to step forward without apology or the shadow of guilt trailing behind.

I wish you well, sincerely. You are more fragile than you allow yourself to see, and I hope you learn to be tender with your own heart. I hope you stop bending into spaces that ask too much and stop shrinking to fit lives that do not honor your spirit. You are worthy of a love that is steady, and a heart that does not make you feel like an option.

I loved you, truly. And I also recognize when something has reached its natural conclusion.

If I could return to the beginning, to that very first day, I would linger there for a moment—when the air between us was light, when everything felt simple, and love had not yet learned its weight. I cherish that version of us. But time moves forward, and so must we. I hope we each step into our next paths with steady hearts, carrying what we’ve learned, and finding our own gentle horizons.

This is my goodbye.
And this is a new beginning—for both of us.

With love,

Ang 🌸

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Wedding, Relationship, marriage

A Moonlight Covenant

Each year, my perspective on marriage continues to evolve, and with it, my vision of a shared life. As time passes, the loud fantasies of my youth have softened into something quieter, deeper, and more meaningful. I find myself thinking less about the “day” itself and more about the person I hope to walk beside—and how I want our life together to feel. For 2026, and for all the years that follow, this is the desire I carry.

Fourteen years ago, I drafted a “marriage contract” for fun, a list of terms I thought would protect my heart. But growing older has taught me something gentler and truer: I cannot change a soul to fit my expectations if they do not choose to honor me. Love cannot be enforced; it must be chosen, freely and continually, in the quiet moments when no one is watching.

Now, I hold only three terms close:

  • Wisdom: To be wise with what we are given.
  • Kindness: To meet one another with respect, gentleness, and care.
  • Commitment: To choose each other again and again through every season, remembering why our hearts first said yes.

I no longer seek a one-way street where I give endlessly while love flows elsewhere. I want a partnership where giving and receiving are a shared rhythm—a steady, quiet strength that carries us through the day. Some days, one of us may only have twenty percent to offer, and the other must carry eighty—but together, we still arrive at one hundred percent, leaning into one another until we are standing tall again. It is the beauty of two people moving in harmony, never letting the other walk the difficult paths alone.

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, marriage is a holy pursuit. I have worked toward my endowment in preparation for this covenant, praying that one day my future partner and I may be sealed in the temple—bound not only for this life, but for the eternities. To love with eternity in mind is to love with reverence, purpose, and care. Because of this, I seek a companion whose heart is first turned toward God. I desire a partner who shares my eternal standards—someone who understands that our devotion to each other is an extension of our shared covenant with Him.

This is the love I am choosing to believe in.


When I envision the future, there is one place my heart always returns to: the Houston Texas Temple. Although I have never seen it in person, I have long been in love with its silhouette. In photos, it looks like a fairytale castle—the kind I once believed only existed in stories. It feels like a quiet kind of magic, as if a sense of belonging has been waiting there for me to finally arrive. Whether I am eventually sealed within its walls or simply stand before it to be asked for my hand, it is where my future feels most clear.


Even the symbols I cherish have shifted. I no longer long for the cold fire of diamonds. Instead, I see the glow of white jade—translucent and serene, like moonlight held in a stone. I envision a dainty white jade engagement ring set in polished silver, a combination that feels cool, intentional, and timeless. I value pieces that feel like home—tactile reminders of protection and a love that is deeply rooted.

Our celebration would unfold in a simple, beautiful sequence. We would begin with a quiet nod to the stories that have shaped my life, entering our reception as the familiar melodies of a Final Fantasy mashup weave through the air. To many, it is just music, but to me, these songs carry a story that echoes the depth of my feelings for a special individual—a tribute to the one who taught me that a soul can be both a legendary hero and a safe harbor.

The stake center, filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the faces of those who have prayed for us, would feel like a true sanctuary. From there, we would slip away to a honeymoon somewhere entirely new—just the two of us, learning the rhythm of one another’s company in a world we’ve yet to explore together.

This hope remains alive in me—a tender expectation I do not chase, but trust will arrive when the time is right. Until then, I will keep becoming, keep believing, and keep my heart open to the love God is preparing for me, nurturing my faith and my spirit with every passing day.

This is my quiet prayer and my hopeful promise: that when the day comes, I will recognize it, embrace it, and walk forward in love—ready, steady, and full of gratitude for the life we are meant to share.

With love,

Ang 🌸

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love, Relationship

I Kind Of Liked It Your Way

Whenever I sang my songs
On the stage, on my own
Whenever I said my words
Wishing they would be heard
I saw you smiling at me
Was it real or just my fantasy
You’d always be there in the corner
Of this tiny little bar

My last night here for you
Same old songs, just once more
My last night here with you?
Maybe yes, maybe no
I kind of liked it your way
How you shyly placed your eyes on me

Oh, did you ever know?
That I had mine on you

Darling, so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you’re never hurt
As if you’re never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer

So let me come to you
Close as I wanted to be
Close enough for me
To feel your heart beating fast
And stay there as I whisper

How I loved your peaceful eyes on me
did you ever know
That I had mine on you

Darling, so share with me
Your love if you have enough
Your tears if you’re holding back
Or pain if that’s what it is
How can I let you know
I’m more than the dress and the voice
Just reach me out then
You will know that you’re not dreaming

Darling, so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you’re never hurt
As if you’re never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer

— 🌸 —

If I could dedicate a song to you, I want you to know this: sometimes, you linger in the corners of my mind, even when you don’t realize it. I catch myself noticing the smallest things about you—the way you tilt your head, the quiet way a smile appears, the subtle ways moments feel brighter simply because you exist.

I’ve realized that some connections don’t need to be rushed. There’s a tenderness in watching you from a little distance, in hoping without pressing, in appreciating you for exactly who you are. I find myself imagining small, careful ways to be near you without overwhelming—ways to let you know you’re seen, even if I haven’t yet found the courage to speak the words aloud.

It’s a quiet attention that asks nothing in return, yet holds everything in its own subtle hope. There’s something comforting in letting these feelings exist softly—like a light in the corner, waiting to be noticed, waiting for the right moment.

And so I keep these thoughts close, tucked gently into my heart. I watch, I hope, I imagine. I carry the quiet warmth of your presence with me, even in moments you might not realize. Perhaps it’s best this way, to let these feelings remain soft, keeping us safe from the ones that might hurt.

With love,

Ang 🌸

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