You stayed silent while I cried and the quiet made me trust you more.

You sat through my terrible movie choice and I kept thinking how you stayed.

You texted a photo of your lunch and it brightened a slow afternoon.

I replay our quiet argument to see how you listened at the end.

You answered my late text with a single sentence and it calmed me down.

I watched you straighten the picture frame and felt a small surge of affection.

When you cancelled plans to be with me, I felt quietly grateful.

You tell the same awful joke and I laugh because it’s yours.

I’m still thinking about how you hummed the tune while you cooked pasta.

When you corrected my directions in the car I felt a small, steady relief.

I feel proud telling my sister about the time you fixed the heater.

I promise to answer the door at midnight when you come home from work.

I will carry your heavy bag up stairs without making it a thing.

I feel a simple joy when your playlist starts and I know your mood.

I want to be the one who packs your lunch when mornings are rushed.

I notice your penmanship and the way you cross your t's; it feels familiar.

I like that you reheat coffee twice and still drink it, stubborn and human.

I want to learn to fix that squeaky door hinge you always ignore.

I notice the way you tighten your shoelaces and think about small rituals.

I want to sit with you in silence and have it be enough.

I love that your jacket smells faintly of rain even after weeks.

I feel grateful when you check my hand in a crowded room.

I like you when you're impatient and tapping your foot—it's honest.

I will pick the slower lane in traffic if it means we talk longer.

I notice the tiny scar on your knuckle and it makes me protective.

I want to wake up and make coffee for you even on Saturdays.

I love that you steal fries from my plate and I never stop you.

Your chipped mug on the top shelf makes the kitchen feel like ours.

I am relieved knowing you'll be there for the dentist appointment I dread.

I saved the receipt from the butcher because you picked the good cut.

I appreciate how you dry the coffee ring from the table without asking.

I want to be the one you tell the dumb details to at midnight.

I noticed your shoelaces were untied and I tied them for you.

I keep replaying your “okay” in my head and it comforts me.

I miss the small argument we had about which film to watch.

I smiled at your old sweater draped over the chair and thought of you.

I want to plan a Tuesday evening with you, nothing special, just us.

I like that you remember to water the basil on the windowsill.

I kept the napkin you scribbled on so I could see your handwriting.

I like hearing your keys on the door, even after a long day.