In January 2018, I was living in Charlotte and fully embracing single life. I was focused on myself, chasing personal goals, and falling in love with spin classes.

One day, Devin’s cousin Carla, who’s also been my longtime family friend, reached out to check in. I thought she was about to invite me over for one of our usual girl nights, but instead, she hit me with, “I have someone I want you to meet.” I immediately sighed and thought, “F***! How am I going to tell Carla I’m not interested in her cousin?” The mutual connection made ghosting impossible, so I came up with a plan: Devin lived in Atlanta, I lived in Charlotte—long-distance would never work. I could just blame it on the distance and move on.

Carla ended up connecting us via text, and before I knew it, Devin was suggesting we meet in person. Lucky for me, every single weekend he was free, I already had plans. I thought my “busy schedule” would be my out… but Devin persisted. After many consecutive “busy” weekends, he decided to drive to Charlotte on a Sunday for a “Business Meeting” and wanted to finally meet up after his “meeting.”

I agreed to go, but I had a plan. I was going to be my full, unfiltered self so I could just get through the date and ensure there wouldn’t be a second one. My plan backfired. Devin kept up with my energy like a pro, and what I thought would be one short date turned into an evening that naturally flowed into dinner— I was starting to like him.

When the date ended, Devin walked me to my car, and I braced myself for him to lean in for a kiss. Instead, he opened my car door, wished me goodnight, and sent me on my way. I was confused to say the least.

After our first date, we continued to communicate and quickly realized that staying apart wasn’t going to work. Weekend after weekend, we made the drive up and down I-85 until I eventually made the move to Atlanta in June of 2018.

Seven years ago, I witnessed a magic trick that I’ve never been able to forget.

A sharply dressed man in a navy suit and striped tie stepped into a room and approached a woman who had volunteered to be his subject for the evening. With a calm demeanor, he placed his palm against hers and asked her to close her eyes.

He began to ask her questions—each one peeling back a layer, each one drawing her deeper into her own thoughts. As the questions grew more personal, more revealing, she answered with increasing vulnerability.

Finally, after the last question, she opened her eyes, blinking in quiet confusion. “What was all that for?” she asked.

The man smiled. “As you spoke… as you saw yourself in your memories… was I there?”

She hesitated, then nodded, surprised. “Yes. Yes, you were. That’s strange.”

It was as if, without realizing it, she had let him into the deepest corners of her mind. A stranger, now embedded in her recollections.

Get someone talking about their past, their dreams, their fears, and they unknowingly link those intimate parts of their life to the person who listens. Like magic, they begin those deepest parts of themselves with you.

Because in that moment, as she spoke and he listened, he was the one who had been enchanted. She was the magician, and he—helplessly, unexpectedly—was the one who had fallen so suddenly in love.

That woman was Courtney.

Seven years later, I remain spellbound.