Loving Someone Was Just The Beginning.....
I fell in love with his soul, then my own, and finally with the world we both created
“Being in presence with the right person, love becomes a trilogy. First, you fall in love with their soul, then your own, and finally with the world you both created.”
Falling in love with his soul
I first fell for Neeti on an ordinary day in 2008 under rather unromantic circumstances. We had crashed at a friend’s place after a long night of poker. The next morning, we were the first to wake and decided to go out for lunch at the nearby pub close to Victoria station. That casual lunch turned into hours of nonstop conversation. To my initial surprise, this usually quiet guy had so much to say once we were hanging one-on-one. We talked about everything, our families, our upbringings, our dreams, and the twists and turns that led us to that moment. I was immediately drawn in by the way he sees and understands the world. There was depth and wisdom in him, a genuine curiosity and a tender warmth when he spoke about the people in his life. Neeti would beam with love and excitement whenever he talked about his close friends. His generous way of seeing others, always assuming the best, always ready to celebrate someone’s success, made me feel that he possessed a truly beautiful soul. In those first interactions, I fell for who he was at his core.
As weeks turned into months, our bond deepened. By the third month of dating, we were already sharing the kind of personal stories usually reserved for old friends. Neeti opened up about his life in a way that left me humbled. He told me about his strained relationship with his father, the infidelity and the impact of his parents’ divorce on him growing up. He described the turbulent childhood he endured, never quite knowing when the next bout of chaos would disrupt the peace at home. I listened as he explained how, as a boy, he had developed emotional maturity beyond his years just to survive that uncertainty. I was amazed by how emotionally articulate he was at just 21 years old. He could put feelings into words with such clarity and wasn’t afraid to talk about vulnerabilities. I fell even harder for him then. Here was someone who not only had profound life experiences, but had learned from them and still chose to remain kind and cheerful. In Neeti I saw a never-ending open book of depth and wisdom, someone eager to understand life and himself better. I adored his values, his empathy, and his reflective nature, as well as loved how he made me feel heard and seen from the very start. Something I realised is a universal desire in relationships. It was only through looking back that I came to realise that this early connection became the foundation for everything to come.
Standing by each other through life challenges
Every great love will be tested and one of our first tests came in the form of a careless insult from a friend. In those early days of our relationship, Neeti was excited to introduce me to his circle of close friends. One evening, a group of about seven of us gathered at a friend’s place. I remember feeling a mix of nerves and optimism. These were people important to him and I hoped to fit in. As we all sat around a big table, one of Neeti’s closest friends cast a dark cloud over the moment. With a snide tone and a smirk on his face, he openly mocked me in front of everyone.
“Neeti, what the hell do you see in her anyway?”
The words hung in the air, cutting straight through my heart. I felt my face flush with embarrassment and hurt. In that instant, I felt out of place. Though what shocked me more was that none of the others, not even Neeti, immediately spoke up to put his friend in place. Perhaps everyone was stunned; perhaps Neeti himself was caught-off guard, not expecting such a crass “joke” from a good friend.
I couldn’t bear the humiliation and the thick silence that followed. I stood up from the table, and went upstairs trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. Neeti came up after me without hesitation. We sat there together with me being visibly upset, him trying to process what just happened. He listened as I explained how deeply disrespected I felt. There was no defensiveness in him, simply remorse and care. After a while, we left the house together. The moment we stepped outside, he turned to me and said, “That should never have happened. I’m so sorry.” He didn’t try to justify anything. That incident caused a permanent rift in their friendship. The friend never apologised to either one of us, and as time passed, our differing priorities became clear.
He later told me, a few months after, that he had no regrets about drawing a line with someone who couldn’t show respect to the person he loved. In that painful episode, Neeti’s loyalty became clear. When an unfortunate event forced him to choose, he chose us. He chose me. He was willing to distance himself from a long-time friend rather than tolerate anyone who demeaned me.
One next trial was far more severe, an ordeal that could have broken many couples. In 2009, about a year into our relationship, I was about to meet Neeti’s mother for the first time. Neeti was graduating from university that year, and his mother was coming to visit him in London to celebrate. Leading up to her visit, Neeti and I were so excited. We spent weeks happily planning all the things we wanted to do to make her trip special. We bought her flowers, planned a relaxing spa day for her, mapped out sightseeing trips on London’s famous red double-decker buses, and scoped out all the best markets and restaurants. Neeti was almost giddy with anticipation. He honestly thought his mother would love me, half-joking that it might feel to his mum like she was getting another daughter. I also carried that hopeful optimism that this would be a wonderful new chapter and connection.
But nothing could have prepared us for what actually happened. The day his mother arrived and first saw me, I sensed an immediate chill. There was hardness in her eyes, a disapproving once-over that left my stomach in knots. She could tell her son was deeply in love, and rather than joy, it seemed to trigger fear and insecurity in her. It’s possible she felt she was “losing” her son to this new woman in his life. Though whatever the reason, her weeks-long stay devolved into the most heated family drama I’ve ever experienced. Every day brought new turmoil, unleashing wave after wave of emotional fury on one another.
Through it all, Neeti stood firmly by my side. At first, he gently tried to reassure his mother and calm the storm, but when her behaviour crossed unbearable lines, he put his foot down. He gave his mother an ultimatum: she needed to stop the harassment and treat me with basic respect, or he would distance himself to protect our relationship. Unfortunately, his ultimatum only angered her further. She began engaging in deeply manipulative tactics to regain control of the situation. On one afternoon, while we were out playing badminton with friends (and not immediately answering our phones), she sent over 30 text messages to Neeti, escalating from pleas to threats. With one of the message threatening to file a missing person report because he didn’t pick up her call for two hours. It became clear that this wasn’t an ordinary case of a mother having a hard time letting go. Neeti later confided that some of these behaviours weren’t entirely new to him. During his high school days, if he enjoyed too much time with friends, his mother would act out in smaller ways by making him feel responsible for her unhappiness. Looking back, neither of us were prepared for the intensity of her actions during that trip to London.
Each day, I felt like I was walking on eggshells, terrified of what accusation or drama might come next. It all culminated when she began spreading vicious rumours about me. In her anger and paranoia, she accused me of heinous things, from using sex to control her son to stealing a sizeable monetary gift she had given him for graduation. These accusations were not only false but bewildering. At the time, I was actually the one with a job, supporting myself, as well as living in my own family’s flat in Kensington. It made no sense. Even so, she was telling these lies to anyone who would listen. Word of her claims reached members of my own mother’s social circle. As someone who tries to lead with kindness, having someone’s mother speak about me in such a hurtful and public way was both devastating and deeply mortifying.
By then, I felt I owed it to myself, and to Neeti, to have a conversation with his mother. I wasn’t expecting a breakthrough, but believed a face-to-face exchange might bring some closure, or at least clarity to the situation. But when I showed up, she closed the door in my face. It felt humiliating and surreal. Neeti stood beside me, just as stunned. We finally saw things for what they were, and we knew we couldn’t keep trying to fix what never wanted to be understood.
As dire as those months were, they proved beyond a doubt where Neeti’s heart lay. He refused to entertain his mother’s falsehoods and cruel tactics. When her behaviour crossed the line, Neeti did something that I knew tore him up inside. He cut off contact with his mother, at least for a time. For more than a year, he didn’t speak with her, hoping that would draw a clear boundary that her actions were unacceptable. It was a drastic step, one that he did not take lightly, but he never wavered in his insistence that I deserved respect and peace. During that year, his mother desperately tried to garner sympathy from others to pressure him. At one point she enlisted one of Neeti’s old high school friends to intervene. This friend called him and essentially took his mother’s side, scolding Neeti for “abandoning” her and urging him to reconsider. No matter how patiently Neeti recounted the actual events, emphasising that his mother’s behaviour had been irrational and harmful, this friend couldn’t and wouldn’t understand the situation from our perspective. All she could say was, “But she’s your mother”, unable to grasp the intensity of what we were dealing with.
If I had known how to articulate it then, I would have said that this was it, what it means to stand by someone you love. It means that when the storms come, whether stirred up by friends, family or the world at large, you shelter each other. It’s defending your partner’s honour when they are unjustly attacked, and being a united front even against people you’ve known your whole life. We went through the mess together. We talked about difficult things, stayed in the room when it got uncomfortable, faced our ugly feelings head-on, and still chose to crawl into bed and hold each other when the day was done.
Falling in love with my own soul
Unexpectedly, I discovered that being with Neeti was slowly changing me in serious ways. With him by my side, I began to fall in love with my own soul in ways I never had before. All my life I had been labelled as “too emotional”. I grew up feeling things intensely, though was never shy about expressing it. Over time, those labels made me self-conscious. Oftentimes, I worried that my feelings were indeed unreasonable or that I was overreacting. But Neeti offered a fresh perspective. Instead of dismissing my emotions, he valued them. Once he really got where I was coming from, he’d say “You’re actually one of the most reasonable people I know”. For the first time, my strong emotions weren’t a “problem” nor “strange”. It’s simply another part of me that also deserved to be heard. He would listen to me intently, always with a keen sense to understand more, and whenever I was upset or hurt, he didn’t just see my tears or anger. He would gently probe to find the source of those feelings. And once he grasped my perspective, conflicts that could have blown up dissolved.
I felt seen. I felt heard. I felt appreciated for who I was.
In all those moments, I tasted what it was like to be understood to my core. Neeti’s calm and patient love created a safe space for me to open up more. Little by little, I shed the fear that I was “too much”, and he met me with such grace and empathy. Paradoxically, his steady demeanour fundamentally taught me to slow down and temper the explosive side of my reactions. I learned from him that it’s possible to feel something intensely, and at the same time, have the ability to express it in words that invite dialogue rather than conflict. This was important to him, to know exactly where I was coming from. As I practiced this skill over the years, I noticed a change in myself — I was becoming more measured, more introspective, and more in control of my emotional life. I started to believe in the wisdom of my feelings rather than seeing them as wild things to be tamed. With Neeti validating and joining me in my emotional world, I in turn gained the confidence to love myself more. I fell in love with the person I was becoming, a woman who is passionate and sensible, expressive and self-aware. Through loving him, I learned to extend that same love and understanding to my own soul.
Just as I was expanding emotionally, I watched Neeti unearth some of the feelings he had long kept buried. Having grown up in a household rife with conflict and emotional turbulence, he had adapted by becoming the calm in the storm. Part of his remarkable composure, I came to learn, was born from surviving very dark family moments. As a child, he lived under the weight of a highly narcissistic father and a family environment that enabled that toxicity. He had been told by his own grandmother at the tender age of seven that it was his responsibility to ensure his feuding parents made up with each other. To cope, Neeti early on embraced the concept of “dukh”, a Sanskrit and Thai term for suffering, not to wallow in it, but to understand it as an inherent part of life that one can endure and rise above. He learned to stay sane by cultivating an almost zen-like patience and rationality amid chaos. When he shared these stories with me, I understood how his patterns came to be. But it also made me realise how necessary our vulnerabilities were to our relationship. I encouraged him to reconnect with the full range of his feelings. Even the uncomfortable ones he had once needed to suppress. Together, we created a space where both of us could be our genuine selves with scars and all.
I reassured him that it was okay to feel anger, sadness, and fear. That he didn’t always have to be the unflappable one. In turn, he showed me the beauty of restraint and reflection, of stepping back before reacting, of forgiving and seeing the bigger picture. We met in the middle, each of us inching closer to a more balanced expression of our deeper emotions. He helped me realise that I wasn’t too much, and I helped him know he was allowed to feel more.
This mutual evolution continued well into our late 30s, and even now. It hasn’t always been quick nor linear, but it has been constant. Every challenge we faced became a chance to learn more about ourselves with the other’s compassionate support. And each time we peeled back a new layer of self-awareness, it felt like we fell in love again with the people we were becoming. I believe this is one of the quiet secrets of lasting love, a space where you’re accepted as you are, though lovingly encouraged to grow together. Neeti and I often reflect on how far we’ve come. We do marvel at the fact that the supposedly shy 21-year old guy and the “too emotional” girl who once sat talking for hours in a pub have evolved into a deeply connected husband and wife who still talk for hours about everything under the sun.
In the world we created together
Seventeen years have passed since the day we first met. I find myself in awe of the world we’ve created together. It’s a world built on countless small choices and a few very big decisions, some joyful, some gut-wrenching, all of which defined the life we share today. One of those big decisions came in 2020, in the aftermath of the COVID crisis when we decided to move back to Bangkok to live closer to my side of the family. This move brought new context and new challenges, as living near family often does. But with the foundation we had, we saw it as another opportunity to deepen our understanding of each other and ourselves. Back in my hometown, I was suddenly confronted with aspects of my family dynamics that I’d taken for granted or glossed over. It was like coming out of a cave into bright light. I began to see my own “programming” more clearly, especially the blind spots and biases I carried from my upbringing. Neeti became my guide and mirror, gently pointing out patterns in family interactions that I was too close to notice. Most times, his observations were hard to hear. After all, I did cling on to the image of a picture-perfect family. And because I trust him completely, I took his insights to heart. With his support, I started to accept that my family, like all families, is human and flawed, and that’s okay. I let go of some of the idealised narratives I had painted and tried embracing a more nuanced view of reality.
There was unexpected peace in doing so. A settling sense that I no longer needed to defend or deny the imperfections. I could love my family for who they are, while also being aware of the less-than-ideal aspects. In turn, I gained clarity about my own role within my family and the kind of relationship I want with them going forward. I also became more certain about what I want to achieve in my own life, and the values I want to lead with.
When I look at our life now, I feel an immense sense of gratitude. I am grateful that our home feels like a sanctuary of peace and laughter. I cherish the friends who have become like family over the years, the ones who celebrated our joys, the ones who patiently sat through our stories of suffering, the ones who made extra efforts to make us feel safe and welcomed. It’s also in the difficult relationships we chose to let go for the sake of our wellbeing, and the healthy relationships we invested in and nurtured. The world we’ve created is essentially the sum of how we chose to spend our time and love.
It’s no wonder why I’m in love with this world of ours. We decided early on that we would prioritise each other, that we would prioritise understanding, respect, and compassion above all. And because of that, those are the very qualities that define our life now. Falling in love with his soul made me feel safe to grow; growing in self-love made me a better partner; and building a life together made us appreciate and love each other even more.
Almost two decades after our first stormy encounter, my mother-in-law has now become one of my fiercest supporters. It took us years, filled with silence, tension and many fragile attempts at reconciliation, to finally reach a place where we both accept each other as we are.
Just three months ago, over a quiet afternoon, she finally felt safe enough to tell me what truly went through her mind during that fateful visit to London. She confessed that when she saw me for the first time, she saw reflections of another “strong” woman from her past, Neeti’s paternal grandmother. Grandmother Malady, the first Thai woman to earn a PhD in law from France, was formidable, commanding, and in my mother-in-law’s eyes, the very reason her own marriage didn’t survive. Seeing traces of Neeti’s grandmother in me terrified her. In her mind, she could only see someone controlling and manipulative. The fear of losing her son took over her.
Today, the wounds of our past have somewhat healed into mutual respect and genuine warmth. We’ve both learned how to openly speak about the hurts we once caused each other. She now beams with pride when she sees Neeti and me together, noticing that our love has grown beyond her fears.
Our relationship is beautifully human now. Not perfect, but honest, vulnerable and real. On lazy Sunday afternoons, we find ourselves in the kitchen, cooking, laughing, and marvelling at how enjoyable our time together can be. It took almost fifteen years to get here, but I wouldn’t trade a moment of it. Because in the end, the journey we took, filled with misunderstandings, forgiveness, and growth from all parties, is exactly what made this bond so meaningful and worthwhile.
How well you suit each other ❤️
Thanks for sharing your beautiful love story. I'm reminded of how healthy love flows in both directions - from lover to the beloved and from beloved to lover...