Sydney Chineze Mokel began working at the Conservation Law Foundation in Boston in April 2020. Since she couldn’t meet her co-workers in person because of the pandemic, she asked a dozen of them for virtual coffee dates.

Tommaso Elijah Wagner was the only one who booked a full hour.

“What are we going to talk about for that long?” she said she had wondered.

As it turned out, they found quite a bit to discuss, including the fact that both had studied Mandarin in college. At the foundation, she was working as a foundation relations coordinator; he was a program assistant.

The two, both 28, didn’t actually meet face to face until Halloween, when they were invited by a co-worker to attend the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, where masks were mandatory and distancing was recommended.

Their collaboration on a staff initiative during Black History Month in February 2021 had them discussing Black joy and Afrofuturism and meeting in person at Kung Fu Tea, near Harvard Square in Cambridge, Mass., to exchange books. (She lent him “I Wonder as I Wander: An Autobiographical Journey,” by Langston Hughes; he lent her “The Fifth Season” by N.K. Jemisin.)

At their third book swap, in April, they met at the Loring Greenough House in the Boston neighborhood of Jamaica Plain. Mr. Wagner brought homemade iced tea, while Ms. Mokel brought cookies she had baked.

“I realized I had a raging crush on him that just appeared out of nowhere,” Ms. Mokel, who goes by Chi, said. At the end of that third meeting, she asked if their next hangout could be a date.

They planned to visit the Museum of Fine Arts a week later, followed by a dinner at Thaitation, a restaurant in the Fenway neighborhood. Mr. Wagner decided he didn’t want to wait that long. Ms. Mokel was having a yard sale, and a day or two before their date, he stopped by.

They soon found that they “fell into these rhythms that complemented each other,” Ms. Mokel said.

While Ms. Mokel was already sure of her feelings for Mr. Wagner, their relationship was tested in late August 2021, when Ms. Mokel faced a hellish move from her home in Jamaica Plain to Cambridge. Mr. Wagner proved his mettle, getting out of bed at 6 a.m. to pilot the U-Haul. He brought her candy, too.

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Two years later, In September 2023, she moved in with Mr. Wagner, to Somerville, Mass., where they live today. They proposed to each other the following month.

Mr. Wagner recreated their third book swap, but put a ring inside the book at the Loring Greenough House, while Ms. Mokel had friends and family gather in their apartment as a surprise — both in person and on Zoom — for when they returned.

Though Ms. Mokel had taken a new job in December 2022, most of their colleagues only learned of their relationship after they were engaged.

“I love how grounded Chi is, her deep knowledge of herself and her confidence in the person she is,” Mr. Wagner said. “I love her laugh, her eyes, and her smile.”

Ms. Mokel is the associate director of foundation relations at the Museum of Science in Boston. She has a bachelor’s degree from Northeastern University in international affairs.

Mr. Wagner is studying for a master’s degree in urban planning and policy at Northeastern and is an intern at the Boston-based Utile Architecture & Planning. He has a bachelor’s degree in environmental policy from Colby College.

Ms. Mokel’s father is a Nigerian immigrant of the Igbo tribe and her mother is African-American; she was raised Episcopalian. Mr. Wagner’s mother is of Jewish and Chinese ancestry, while his father is of English and German descent. His mother is culturally Jewish, while his father, who was an Episcopalian, is now a Buddhist.

The couple noticed similarities in Jewish and Igbo traditions — the shared reverence for humor and storytelling — and sought to incorporate both cultures into their wedding ceremony.

They were married in front of 235 guests at Robbins Memorial Town Hall in Arlington, Mass., on March 8, by Rabbi Jen Gubitz, the founder of Modern Jewish Couples, an organization catering to interfaith and intercultural partners. The pair wore western dress for the ceremony — the bride in a vintage white gown she had bought secondhand on Poshmark — and changed into a Nigerian aso ebi dress, in forest green and gold, for the reception.

Appetizers included hot and sour soup and egg rolls, potato knishes and akara, Nigerian black-eyed pea fritters.

Before dinner, the bride’s oldest uncle blessed a kola nut, an Igbo tradition symbolizing unity. The couple danced the hora to Harry Belafonte’s “Hava Nagila,” as guests showered the couple with cash, a Nigerian wedding tradition known as the money spray.

“Tommaso is a charming mix of sweet and stubborn,” Ms. Mokel said. “Also, he has joined my family easily with an openness to embracing new cultural traditions and foods.”

Finding the Fun

Mom, a former physicist, had a hard day with her dementia. She opened Zoom two hours early, asking repeatedly when her prayer meeting would begin. Realizing her mistake, she slumped on her bed and started to cry. “It’s not fun anymore,” she said, meaning life. I made us coffee and sat down to comfort her. “It’s OK, Mom. You’re my best friend.” She stared at me. I stared back, thinking we were having a tender moment. She gave a sly smile and quipped, “Too bad for you!” Meaning I’m a loser. We burst out laughing. Life was still fun. — Anna Dahland Kim

A Simple Question

Parked outside his apartment, I squeezed Karl’s hand a little tighter and stared straight ahead. The cold air hung heavy with silence. I had just told the boy I was deeply in love with that I could no longer be his girlfriend — because I could no longer be a girl. I was exhausted; the months of fear and pretending had taken their toll. No matter how badly I wanted him, I needed to be me. Eventually, I gained enough courage to look over at Karl. His face pressed with concern, he asked, “But, can I still be your boyfriend?” — Benji Patwardhan

Complicated Uncoupling

He snores loudly in the bedroom above mine, the buzz of 25 years together, now unraveling. We’re in that strange in between, separated but still beneath the same roof, “lawyered up” but amicable. He stays in his room, I in mine, but the house still hums with echoes of what was. We argue over money, parenting our two children and mismatched power dynamics. Yet, on Friday night dinners out together, I hear it: “Honey.” The word lingers, familiar, warm like an old song we can’t stop singing. Old habits don’t die easily, even when love has one foot out the door. — Lisa Liu Grady

The Kids Are All Right

Tucking my daughters in, I asked, “How did I get so lucky to be your mom?” Usually my youngest would shrug, but this night, for whatever reason, she said, “You went through something really hard to get to something really good.” I had never mentioned the darker parts of my childhood to her. She couldn’t have known, but the scene I’d revisited in therapy earlier that day happened when I was exactly her age: a violent fight between my mother and father that left me terrified. Now, my daughter’s 6-year-old self hugged my 6-year-old self, both of us safe and lucky, indeed. — Liz McDaniel