When I was younger, I thought love was something you eventually figured out.
You meet the right person.
You get married.
You learn each other’s likes and dislikes.
And then somehow, everything settles into place.
A decade into marriage, I’ve learnt that’s not how it works at all.
The funny thing about marriage is that people don’t stay the same.
You don’t stay the same.
The person you married at twenty-something is not exactly the same person standing beside you ten years later.
Life changes you.
Parenthood changes you.
Responsibilities change you.
Even the way you receive love can change.
When we first got married, I thought I knew exactly what my love language was.
Words mattered.
Reassurance mattered.
Feeling seen mattered.
At least, that’s what I thought.
Then life happened.
Children arrived.
Sleep disappeared.
The mental load grew heavier.
And somewhere along the way, practical acts of care started speaking louder than words.
These days, love sometimes looks like someone remembering to bring home something you mentioned once.
Or taking over a task without being asked.
Or handling a responsibility so your mind can rest for a while.
Acts of service have become something I appreciate far more than I ever expected.
But that’s where marriage gets interesting.
Just because my love language changed doesn’t mean my husband’s changed too.
While I might feel loved when someone lightens my load, he might still need words.
Encouragement.
Appreciation.
Acknowledgement.
The things that don’t necessarily come naturally when you’re busy surviving daily life together.
And that’s something we’re still learning.
Because marriage isn’t just about discovering your partner once.
It’s about rediscovering them over and over again.
The person you knew five years ago may not be the same person today.
The things that mattered before may not matter now.
The gestures that once meant everything might no longer carry the same weight.
So you adapt.
You adjust.
You learn.
You ask questions again.
You pay attention again.
And sometimes you realise you’ve been speaking a different language than the one your partner needs to hear.
A decade later, I don’t think successful marriages are built on finding perfect compatibility.
I think they’re built on choosing to keep learning each other.
Even when life gets busy.
Even when seasons change.
Even when the person across from you feels familiar enough to assume you already know everything about them.
Because you don’t.
Not completely.
Not ever.
There’s always something new to discover.
Something new to understand.
Something new to appreciate.
Our marriage isn’t perfect.
We’ve had misunderstandings.
Different expectations.
Difficult seasons.
Moments when life felt heavier than either of us expected.
But through all of it, we’ve continued choosing the same thing.
To make it work.
To stay curious.
To keep growing.
To keep building.
And perhaps most importantly, to keep dreaming.
Not because every dream comes true exactly as planned.
But because dreaming together means believing there is still a future worth building together.
Maybe that’s what love looks like at thirty.
Not grand gestures.
Not fairy tales.
Not perfection.
Just two imperfect people who are still learning each other after all these years.
Still adapting.
Still choosing.
Still dreaming.
And somehow, that feels more romantic than anything I imagined when I was younger.
Ummi Noi