When I was 15 and deeply in love, I wrote a letter to my future self and sealed it away to open one day. As the years passed, I lost track of the letter and forgot what I had even written. Tucked into photo albums and books through various moves, it somehow stayed with me, even as milestone years came and went without ever feeling like the right time to open it.

But now, 20 years later, I decided it was time.

I’m married now. I have a daughter. I have a fulfilling career at a company I can see myself staying at and eventually retiring from. And I’m still deeply in love, just in a very different way.

The letter was exactly what you’d expect from a 15-year-old. Most of it gushed about my boyfriend at the time, declaring we’d be “together 4ever” and even asking my future self how he was doing 20 years later. I even wrote a letter to him, assuming he’d be right there next to me as I opened it.

Well. He’s not.

That was first love. Not the kind I learned from my parents’ tumultuous marriage, which eventually ended in divorce, but from young adult romance novels, Disney movies, anime, and every dramatic love story I could find.

He was my first everything. We thought we were soulmates. It was intense and long and hopeful. It was the first time I saw a future with someone, the first time I ever talked about kids. But we were also tangled in trauma, infidelity, heartbreak, blame, and even violence. It didn’t survive, even though we truly tried for more than 15 years, on and off.

It was the shout-it-from-the-rooftops kind of romance. The spontaneous flowers kind of romance. The “I love you no matter what” or “I love you because I know nothing else” kind of love.

Now, after 20 years of growing up, a few years of marriage, and a child, I’ve learned what love can look like instead.

Early on in our relationship, I used to be upset that my husband didn’t buy random flowers or post declarations of love on social media. But he quickly showed me what grown-up romance really is.

Romance, to me, isn’t grand gestures from a charming movie character.

True romance is prioritizing your partnership as you build a life together. It’s remembering something small you said years ago and proving they were listening because you matter that much. True romance is steady. It’s reliable. It eases your burden without needing to be asked. It takes responsibility. It apologizes when it causes pain. It never plays with your trust, and it never even edges close to breaking it.

It respects boundaries. It’s unconditional, but also conditional. It’s not a “no matter what” kind of love because it understands the weight of holding someone’s heart. And if it breaks it, that’s it. That’s what makes it so meaningful.

After reading the letter, I laughed. In my hands, I held physical proof of how much I’ve changed. I’m proud of where I came from and where I’ve landed. I’m grateful I still get to wake up every day, keep learning, and keep evolving.

And yes, I still get the occasional bouquet of flowers. Maybe I’ll write a letter back to tell her.

Maybe my definition will change again 20 years from now.