You point out when I’m close to giving up and don’t let me.

I feel safer when you drive me home after a late shift.

You sent me a photo of the stray cat we tried to name.

You let me rant for ten minutes then hand me a solution.

I like your honest text at 7 a.m. more than any polished message.

I notice when you pick up my favorite snack at the store.

I relax knowing you’re the one I can complain to without explaining.

I’m glad you drove five extra minutes to drop off my charger.

You’re the person I call when my phone battery dies and I need directions.

I still remember the scar on your thumb from that camping trip.

You fixed my bike chain by the park without asking for anything.

You showed me the back alley bakery where the croissants are thin and good.

I noticed you staying up to answer that message so I could sleep.

You kept my spare house key after I lost mine on Elm Street.

I picture us still sending each other one-line check-ins that mean everything.

I'll keep offering to help paint rooms even when our arms are sore.

I want to know we'll still meet weekly for bad takeout and better company.

I want to be the person who remembers your birthday before Facebook does.

I want a future where your plant collection takes over my kitchen counters.

Promise to nudge me when I'm buried in work and forget to eat.

I see us still sharing playlists and swapping books on quiet afternoons.

I'll make sure there's always an extra toothbrush in my bag for you.

Can we agree to clear snow from each other's cars when winter hits?

I misspoke: I don't just hope we'll stay close, I trust we will.

I want a future that includes your terrible puns at every holiday dinner.

I will cheer the loudest when you get the promotion you deserve.

Let's promise to learn basic plumbing together so rental floods don't win.

I like thinking of us checking in with honest texts, not long speeches.

I'll be the one who helps you move boxes, no questions, every single time.

I want to argue about paint colours for an apartment we'll share someday.

I want to keep your postcards from trips and tack them on a corkboard.

I feel sure we'll find ways to support each other's messy ambitions.

I want a future where we still steal fries from each other's plates.

Let's finally learn one recipe together and always mess it up the same way.

I like the idea of decades of mundane texts from you about bus times.

I will always save you the last slice of pizza even if I'm starving.

I imagine us still trading playlists when phones are full of photos.

Tell me you'll remind me to call my mum when work gets messy.

I look forward to borrowing your oversized coat and pretending it fits me.

I feel calmer knowing you'll be there when I screw up a job interview.