And perhaps that is what frightens me most about you: how effortlessly you have become a part of me. How I find myself saving little things throughout the day just to tell you about them, as though every passing thought becomes a little less ordinary if I can share it with you. I catch myself wondering what you'd say, what your face would look like, whether you'd laugh at the same ridiculous things I do. It's embarrassing, really, how much of my world has begun to make room for you. I think if you were here, I wouldn't even need anything extraordinary. I'd want the sleepy mornings, the tangled limbs, the quiet laughter against your shoulder. I'd want to watch you exist without feeling the need to fill every silence. I'd want to learn the language of your little habits, memorise the expressions you make when you're concentrating, and discover all the different ways your voice sounds when you're tired, excited, or trying not to laugh. I'd want to know you in the ways that don't fit into words. Because I don't just want the beautiful parts of you. I want the strange, inconvenient, wonderfully human parts, too. The overthinking, the rambling, the moods you cannot explain, the thoughts you hesitate to share because you're afraid they might be too much. I want you to feel as though you never have to make yourself smaller for me. You can be as peculiar, as vulnerable, as gloriously yourself as you wish. I would rather know the unfiltered truth of you than fall in love with some polished version you think I might prefer. And God, I think I'm already falling for the things you haven't even realised are lovable about you. Sometimes I wonder whether you understand what you've done. You came into my life, and suddenly there are mornings I look forward to, songs that sound different, and little moments that make me wish you were there to witness them. You have somehow made the world feel like a place I want to stay in a little longer. Not because everything is suddenly perfect, but because somewhere in the middle of all its imperfections, there is you. I don't know what the future has written for us, and I won't pretend that love can promise us an easy road. But I know that if I get to keep discovering you, slowly and sincerely, through all the ordinary days and unexpected turns, I will consider myself terribly lucky. So, if you wake up tomorrow and wonder whether you crossed someone's mind before the sun rose, let it be enough to know that you did. You were there in the quiet, in the first thought I couldn't quite shake, in the little ache of wishing distance were a thing we could simply laugh away. And if the universe ever grows tired of granting me wishes, I think I'd ask it for just one more morning with you. No grand declarations. No elaborate plans. Just you, beside me. Your hand finding mine beneath the blankets, your sleepy voice breaking the silence, and the whole world waiting patiently outside our little corner of it. Because, darling, I think I could spend a lifetime learning the extraordinary art of being ordinary with you. And somehow, I think that would be the most extraordinary thing of all