As usual, I was invited to another holiday gathering — this time, it just so happened to be Easter Sunday, 2023. In true form, I was a stickler for punctuality and, unsurprisingly, the first to arrive.

Being me, I knocked politely before entering, and was greeted by the comforting aroma of an Easter feast. There, seated gracefully at the kitchen table, was Aunt Mary. She welcomed me in with her familiar warmth, and we sat for a quiet moment, chatting. There was a peculiar calm about her that day — a knowing kind of peace. She asked a few thoughtful questions about how I’d been, and then left it at that.

Soon enough, the rest of the family began trickling in, filling the house with laughter and chatter. Just as everyone settled, Aunt Mary’s voice rang out:

“Andrick, we about to pray!”

And then — as if the room paused just for him — from what felt like a still frame in time, emerged the most handsome, statuesque presence I had ever laid eyes on. Built like a sculpted chocolate prince, he moved with quiet confidence, walked straight over, gently took my hand, and said:

“I’m Andrick Stevenson.”

And, well… the rest is history.