I’ll babysit badly so you can nap properly, and I mean it.

You admitted you’ll need help, and I’ll show up without being asked.

You wobble between impatience and awe, and I’m paying attention to both.

I’ll bring the extra pillow for your naps and take the dishes afterward.

You said you were worried about mornings, and I believe you’ll find steady rhythms.

I felt proud hearing you promise to read silly stories every week.

You whispered the nursery paint color and I liked hearing you decide small things.

When you said the ultrasound felt unreal, I heard steady hope in your voice.

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.

Can we promise to keep that awful drawer of chargers and actually label everything?

I picture us still laughing over the same dumb jokes when we're both grey.

I want to be the reason you call to say you found something funny.

I want to sit beside you on the train and not say much.

I notice you humming while you wash the dishes and it makes my day.

I liked that you ate the leftover chilli even though you said you wouldn't.