Our Story

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Under the soft glow of Enzo’s Cucina — where warm wood tones, twinkling fairy lights, and the scent of garlic bread coax guests into lingering long after dessert — their first date unfolded one summer Saturday evening long ago.

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It began as many first dates do: pasta, a bit of quiet conversation, the hum of cutlery on plates. But soon time slipped away and the waitress approached to tell them the kitchen had closed. Over untouched dessert, they realised hours of conversation had past so effortlessly. 

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When the bill arrived, Chris swiped his card with a blend of poise and old-world charm - as if he'd done this a thousand times. The terminal prompted for a four digit PIN, panic ensued. Chris had forgotten it entirely. Quickly pressing each button, he whispered apologies. She glanced around, eyes narrowing initially, convinced this was either very bad comedy or a seasoned scammer’s act. Was she being swindled? Was this part of a greater scheme to scrape a paid meal? 

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But she caught it in a millisecond,  his face had turned that rare shade of mortified red—eyes bulging, panic in his voice, jaw unclenching as if rehearsing for a silent film. That panic wasn’t an act. Her laughter crashed through her suspicions. She tapped her card, and tried to raise his spirits. Under the twinkle of the streetlamp outside Enzo’s, more minutes escaped them talking nonsense, laughing and sharing stories—because walking away felt so terminal. "We should do this again. Next time I'll pay and remember my PIN", he declared. She laughed and nodded eagerly. They hugged goodbye and went their separate ways. She thought he was kind of funny, he thought she was a Polynesian.

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A long time later, that awkward slip, once the scariest moment of their early connection, became the sweetest anecdote: the night she thought she might be getting swindled, but turned out she’d just fallen wholly in love. And now, they’re planning their wedding — with plenty of lively jokes, clear nerves, and no forgotten PINs in sight.