I also think it was important for me and Freddie to be able to

In the tender cadence of reflection, the words of Sarah Michelle Gellar shimmer with quiet wisdom: “I also think it was important for me and Freddie to be able to have a lot of time to share our lives at the beginning of our marriage rather than my coming home at 9 or 10 at night from the set. Things have really worked out for the best for both of us.” These are not the proclamations of an oracle, nor the cries of one at war, but the serene utterance of one who has discovered that love, like a garden, must be tended in its earliest bloom. Within these words lies an eternal truth—the understanding that time is the first language of love, and presence its purest form.

When Gellar, famed for her strength and grace on screen, spoke of her marriage to Freddie Prinze Jr., she revealed not a tale of fame or ambition, but of balance and devotion. The world had offered her the bright lights of success, yet she chose instead the steady glow of intimacy—the kind that cannot be bought nor borrowed. Her choice was an act of quiet rebellion against the ceaseless pace of modern life. It was a return to what the ancients called oikonomia—the art of nurturing the household, not through servitude, but through harmony. In choosing love over labor, she upheld one of life’s oldest teachings: that no success can replace the closeness of shared hearts.

Throughout the chronicles of time, countless souls have stood at this crossroads between duty and devotion. Consider Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer who was called from his plow to lead his nation in war. When victory was won, he did not linger to bask in glory but returned to his fields, preferring the peace of family over the power of empire. Like Gellar, he knew that greatness means nothing if one’s spirit is starved of connection. His act was heroic not because he conquered others, but because he conquered himself—his pride, his ambition, his hunger for acclaim. The same victory lives in every person who chooses the quiet fire of love over the noisy blaze of worldly triumph.

The ancients would say that love’s strength is tested not in grand declarations, but in daily choices. To come home early. To share a meal. To sit together in silence and know that the silence is good. These are the sacred threads that weave a lasting union. For though the world celebrates the mighty and the swift, it is the steadfast and the patient who build the bridges that endure the centuries. Gellar’s words remind us that time shared is the foundation upon which true companionship rests. Without it, even the strongest vows can wither, for love unwatered soon turns to dust.

Yet her reflection carries not only tenderness but triumph. “Things have really worked out for the best for both of us.” This is the fruit of deliberate living—the reward of those who plant their lives in soil that matters. Her marriage endured because it was not left to fate but nurtured by intention. In an age that prizes busyness over belonging, her example stands as both a challenge and a guide: that we must not let our work consume the hours meant for the ones we love. The heart, like a hearth, must be fed with the warmth of shared time or it grows cold.

Let this story, then, be a lantern for those who walk the hurried roads of life. The world will always demand more—more effort, more hours, more achievement—but it will never give back what love gives in return. To those newly joined or long wed, remember this: do not offer your beloved only what is left of you at the end of the day. Offer them the beginning—the full and living part of your heart. Choose to pause. To sit. To be present. For in presence, the spirit remembers its purpose.

Thus, the teaching endures: Love is not sustained by grand gestures, but by the quiet rhythm of shared time. Let every sunrise remind you to cherish what truly matters. Do not wait for the perfect moment; create it. Share your life while it is still unfolding, not after it has passed you by. For when the years have gathered like autumn leaves, it will not be the applause of strangers that warms you—but the memory of the evenings spent beside the one who knew your heart best. And in that stillness, you too shall say, as Sarah Michelle Gellar did, that indeed, “things have really worked out for the best.”