Standing at the altar looking at a person, someone who’s fought life alongside me. A little nervous, it’s my first time.
A moment I’ve dreamt of, planned it all since I can remember: the menu, the theme, the outfits and the guests, the entertainment, everything perfect. It’s funny how we spend time planning for a day, just one day. A day that unites two families together, two strangers who believe they know each other well, and they tie the knot. A few hours of laughter, a lot of faces, and fun.

The sun sets, and stars illuminate the night. The music fades. The exhaustion sets in, and it’s all gone with the wind. A few sleepy words exchanged. The room is still buzzing with the day's memories. You sleep with both excitement and fear.

A new morning arrives, and it’s a new day, the after, the echo that comes when the music fades, and guests have gone their own ways. A new chapter begins with the person of your dreams. You wake up next to your lover, not in lust or longing, but in routine. Two toothbrushes share a sink, the sink carries two faces, and the room smells like shared laundry and old conversations. Shoes have partners now, and you have someone to hold you in the thunder. Everything now has a companion.

Who wakes up first? Who prepares breakfast? Who cleans and who cooks? Who pays which bills? What responsibilities are you each respectfully going to partake in? It dawns on you that you didn’t think that far. It’s like being back home, just that now you're in charge, officially an adult. You still have the same responsibilities you had, and the same stuff you did. And nothing changed much. You oversee meals, laundry, cleaning, bills, finances, and everything in between. You once saw the best version of them, dressed up, ready, scented. The structured them. Now you see them unfiltered, no dressing up, no special outfits or fragrance. You have what you wanted, but something is off. Something is not right. The butterflies that once fluttered seem to have lost their wings.

There is no escape; disagreements must be faced before the day sets. When they hurt you, you no longer hide and cry in silence; you now cry in their presence. The same lust that once burnt you is now a flicker fighting the wind of routine. The one who sheds your tears also wipes your tears. The rainbow fades, petals dry, and reality settles in. You learn not to take offense easily. Sometimes you question your choice, is it right or wrong? You cannot just leave because you are not happy. It is no longer about happiness but about duty and commitment. You are now left standing bare, exposed; the real you is left. There is no hiding, there is no pretending or clouded eyes; your eyes have cleared, and you have descended from cloud nine to reality.

They said marriage is sacred, a union of souls, a lifelong partnership, the fairy-tale ending. But sometimes it feels like a long-term lease. Two hearts living under one roof, bound by rules that are gentler than your parents’ but harsher than solitude. It starts with laughter, shared toothbrush holders, and warm feet under the blanket, and slowly morphs into a quiet partnership where love must fight routine to stay alive.

When you strip away the poetry and petals, what you sometimes find is a glorified roommate situation with emotional strings attached. You're saying “forever,” not realising that forever is built on dishes, deadlines, and shared bills. There’s beauty there, yes, but also suffocation. You love them, but sometimes you miss missing them. You share rent, food, space, and a routine that slowly shapes your life into predictable loops.

Marriage isn’t overrated; it’s just not what was marketed. It’s like a product with great PR but no instructions. A trending product, hard to use. You begin to wonder if it's companionship or captivity? Love or habit? Marriage becomes a test of endurance, learning to stay attracted to one person when the thrill fades, when every argument feels recycled, and silence stretches too long.

Yet within that dull rhythm, there’s a strange kind of beauty, a discipline in staying, in choosing to love when love isn’t loud. You learn something new about each other every day, different ways to create anger and to forgive.
Marriage becomes a unique mystery puzzle; solving one piece, then a new, different puzzle pops up. The more puzzles you solve, the harder and more challenging they become. Maybe marriage isn’t fireworks after all. Maybe it’s tending to each puzzle with patience, keeping the fire alive, even when the wind insists otherwise.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s beauty and comfort in it. Someone who knows your worst moods and still brings you tea, gets you your favourite cake slice, and plays your favourite show. But there’s also a strange quietness, rules more lenient than your parents’, yet somehow heavier.

Maybe love doesn’t fade; it just changes shape. Maybe marriage isn’t about forever passion but about everyday patience. Still, sometimes I wonder if we confuse stability for happiness, and routine for love.

You start realising that marriage is not fireworks: it’s the flickering candle that refuses to go out. It’s company in silence, comfort in boredom, and sometimes, tolerance disguised as love. It’s like having a roommate who knows your passwords, your fears, and your worst moods, but also one you cannot evict.

The real challenge is not falling in love; it’s staying curious about the same person when you already know their reactions, their scent, their sighs, and silence. Attraction becomes a balance between memory and imagination; between who they were and the one standing before you now.

And maybe that’s what marriage truly is, not a flame that burns, but an ember that needs tending. Not passion, but persistence. Not possession, but patience.

In the end, marriage is choosing the same person every day, even when your heart wonders if it still needs to. It’s realising that love is less about butterflies — and more about staying when the wings are gone.

Note: I have never been married, and this is simply my view from the sidelines looking in. From my view, marriage seems less like a fairy tale but more like an eternity of friendship with benefits.