Letters from the Future Husband — Before We Even Met

Dear You,

I don’t know your name yet. I don’t know the shape of your laugh or how your eyes light up when you're excited. I don’t know if you drink your coffee black or with too much sugar, or if you even like coffee at all. But I do know this — I’m writing to you now because somewhere in this vast world, our paths are slowly winding toward each other. And even though we haven’t met, you’re already in my heart.

Some nights I sit by the window and imagine you. Not your face — not quite — but the feeling of you. The comfort in your presence, the peace in your silence, the fire in your joy. You’re like a song I haven’t heard yet, but I already know the melody. A future memory echoing through the present.

This letter is my first gift to you.

I wonder where you are as I write this. Are you curled up with a book, unaware that someone out there is dreaming of you? Are you laughing at something your friend just said, unaware that someone is listening for that laugh in their dreams? Are you going through something hard, something that weighs on your heart like stones in your pockets? If so, I hope this letter finds you gently, like sunlight slipping through your curtains in the morning.

You see, I believe love begins long before hello. Love isn’t a single spark — it’s a slow-growing flame, kindled by hope, by faith, by the belief that something beautiful is waiting just ahead. I think I’ve loved you in moments I didn’t understand — when I prayed for someone without knowing who, when I waited for something without knowing why.

There are so many things I want to promise you.

I promise to never try to fix you — because you are not broken. I promise to grow with you, not just beside you. Life will change us, stretch us, challenge us. But I want to be the one who holds your hand through all of it — not just when it's easy, but when the storms come too.

I promise to be your safest place, your loudest cheerleader, your quietest peace. To listen when you’re tired of talking, to hold you when words are too heavy, to laugh with you when we forget how hard things were.

I don’t promise perfection. I’ve made mistakes and I will again. I’ll have my bad days and sharp edges. But I’ll always come back. I’ll always choose you.

I wonder what you’ll teach me.

Maybe you'll be the one who teaches me how to slow down, how to breathe, how to notice the little things again — morning light on the walls, the scent of lavender in summer, the way the world holds its breath before it rains. Maybe you’ll challenge my beliefs, help me see the world through your eyes. Maybe you’ll hold up a mirror to the parts of me I’ve hidden, and love me there too.

I can already feel the impact you’ll have on my life, even though we haven’t met. Isn’t that wild? That someone can change your soul before they even enter your story?

Sometimes I write these letters because I need hope too. On days when I feel alone, when the world seems too heavy, I remind myself that you’re out there. That one day, we’ll be two people in the same place at the same time, and something will shift. A glance, a smile, a spark we both feel in our bones. I’ll say something awkward. You’ll laugh. And somehow, everything will start to make sense.

It won’t all be magic — I know that. Real love is built, not just felt. It’s late nights and honest conversations, misunderstandings and learning each other’s languages. It’s forgiveness and vulnerability and trust. But I’m ready for that. I’m ready for the work, because the idea of you — the reality of you — is worth it.

I’ve seen couples walking hand-in-hand, sharing inside jokes, finishing each other’s sentences. And while envy never took root in me, hope did. Hope that one day, that would be us. That one day I’d look at someone and know: finally, it’s you.

I hope I recognize you.

I hope the universe whispers your name into my ear the moment our eyes meet. I hope there’s a quiet certainty, a peaceful knowing. Not fireworks or fanfare — just that warm, grounded feeling that says, “Yes. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

Until then, I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep dreaming. I’ll keep becoming the version of me who deserves the version of you I know is out there.

So if you ever feel lonely, if you ever wonder if love is still waiting for you, let this be your sign: it is.

I am.

We are.

Somewhere, on some timeline, we’re already laughing together. Already holding each other through the hard stuff. Already dancing in the kitchen at midnight to songs we’ve both forgotten the words to. Already building a home out of love and ordinary moments.

I’ll meet you there.

With all the love that’s growing every day,

Your Future Husband