*I'm 18, almost 19, and Kristopher is 22, almost 23. We walk through the forest together, my short black hair contrasting with his long dark hair.

I glance down at the ring on my finger. It's an old family ring that his Grammy gave him—and Kristopher gave it to me.

ME: I still can't believe you gave me your Grammy's ring.

KRISTOPHER: She gave it to me because she trusted me with it. I wanted you to have it.

ME: Does she know you're dating me?

He smiles.

KRISTOPHER: I talk to her about you all the time.

ME: Really?

KRISTOPHER: Yeah. She knows how much I care about you.

I smile, but Kristopher's expression suddenly becomes more serious.

ME: What's wrong?

KRISTOPHER: Nothing. Don't worry about it.

What I don't know is that some of his family doesn't approve of us. They don't like that I'm not Native, and they also worry about our age difference. Kristopher hasn't told me because he doesn't want me to feel like I'm the reason his family is upset.

Later, Kristopher sits with his Grammy.

GRAMMY: How is she?

KRISTOPHER: She's good. She doesn't know what the family thinks about us.

GRAMMY: You haven't told her?

KRISTOPHER: Not yet. I don't want her thinking she doesn't belong.

His Grammy looks at him knowingly.

GRAMMY: You really love her.

KRISTOPHER: I do. She's important to me.

He looks down at the matching ring on his hand.

KRISTOPHER: I'm just hoping someday they'll understand why I chose her.*