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Home is where their heart is

He loves his warm Vimto. I mean warm. Not room temperature, not hot. Just warm enough to his comfort, done his way. Trying to get the hot to cold ratio just right was a little hard at first, but I think I got there. 


He’s particular about his peach loops. Not just any kind. The kind. The kind his mum bought him. The ones from the European supermarket with the yellow and blue sign. He knows the difference. Mango and papaya juice and a bar of Cadbury's chocolate are staples next to his gaming chair. 


 In all honesty, at first I was scared. I’d never really been in love before. I overthought everything and questioned every motive. Being in love is a huge change that no one really talks about. You’re two people from different lives and experiences coming together to create a new chapter with one another. As a girl, you think love will be loud. A movie. A moment. Fireworks. But the real thing? It’s him holding your face whilst you’re sleeping. Making you a cup of tea without asking. It’s him reading your face in a crowd, knowing before you say a word. It’s him making sure you’re warm enough, you’ve eaten enough, slept enough. It’s him, loving me in a way that’s soft, but never weak. Gentle but unshakable.


He’s strong in the ways that matter most. Not just in his muscles and his football wins, but in the way he shows up. Again and again. In the way he holds my hand and never makes me feel as though I am not too much. In the way he laughs when I do something ridiculous, and lets me talk for hours and listens.


And then he sings. Not like a performance, just quietly, without even realising he’s doing it. Usually, when he’s driving or distracted by something else. He thinks I’m not paying attention, but I am. I love listening to him.


Sometimes I look at him and I just feel proud. Not for anything big or loud, but for the quiet way he carries himself. The way he shows up, handles things, protects what he loves without needing recognition. He doesn’t even know it. How proud I am of him. How perfect it is, the way he just exists in the world. It’s in the way he takes care of the people around him, the relationship with his little brother and little cousin, how he cares for them without ever making a show of it. I don’t think he realises how much that matters. But I see it. I always see it.


It’s something that you don’t get at first. You don’t get that a person can be home. But he is. And now?


Oh, now… I get it.

ree

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