Letter ID: LON-202010
Dear London,
I have been with my partner for six years now.
In that time, we have built a life. We share a home. We raise our little girl together. We have survived things that break a lot of couples. From the outside, we probably look settled. Secure. Happy.
And in many ways, we are.
But there is one thing I am still waiting for.
A ring.
Two years into our relationship, he had an affair. It broke me. Not in a dramatic, loud way, but in a quiet one. The kind where you still turn up, still smile, still try, even when something inside you feels permanently bruised. I loved him enough to stay. We worked through it slowly. Painfully. Honestly.
I asked for commitment after that. Not just words, but actions. We moved in together. We started building a real future.
Then we had our daughter.
Becoming a mum changed everything. It gave me a new kind of strength, but it also made me want stability more than ever. I want my family to feel solid. I want my child to grow up knowing her parents chose each other properly, not just out of convenience, but out of certainty.
At 34, I do not want to still be someone’s girlfriend.
I want to be his wife.
People around me notice the gap, even when I try not to. My best friend says he should have married me years ago. My mum asks me almost every month when it is going to happen. Sometimes it feels like everyone can see what I am waiting for, even when I pretend I am not.
I tell myself that our relationship is good. We laugh. We have our sweet moments. He is a good dad. He tells me he loves me. He says we will get married one day.
But days turn into months. Months turn into years. And still, there is no ring.
I know marriage is not everything. I know a piece of jewellery does not define love. But it does represent something important to me. Security. Commitment. The feeling of being fully chosen.
After everything we have been through, I feel like this is the least I deserve.
I stayed loyal. I stayed patient. I stayed loving, even when it would have been easier to walk away. I rebuilt trust when it would have been simpler to protect myself.
Now, I want to feel like his future, not just his present.
I want to share a surname with my daughter. I want to feel like our family is officially whole. I want to stand in front of the people who matter to us and say, we made it through, and we are still choosing each other.
I also want another child one day. But I promised myself something. I will not do that until I am a wife. Not because I need permission, but because I need to feel secure. Because I need to know that I am building on solid ground.
Sometimes I wonder if I am asking for too much. Then I remember everything I have already given.
Love. Forgiveness. Time. Trust.
I am not asking for perfection. I am asking for commitment.
There are days when I feel calm about it. I tell myself to be patient, to let things happen naturally. And then there are days when I feel the weight of waiting. The quiet disappointment of watching time pass while nothing changes.
I love him. Truly. And that makes this harder, not easier.
Because when you love someone, you do not just want to be with them. You want to belong to each other in a way that feels permanent. Safe. Certain.
I am not chasing a fairytale. I am chasing reassurance.
So here I am, still waiting. Still hopeful. Still believing that one day he will look at me and realise that I have already been his wife in every way that matters.
Except the one that I am still dreaming of.
Angela W
Occasionally we shape real stories into letters, so every voice is heard.
Source: Letter sent by writer
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