@lettersbyaristhel: When the day grows quiet, I find you in what remains. A sentence you left unfinished. The way your eyes held mine a moment longer than necessary. The laughter that interrupted nothing and somehow became everything. Even our silences return to me— not empty, but full of all the things we never needed to say. And when sleep comes, my mind does not search for you. It has carried you there already. I think this is what loving you has become: finding, at the end of every day, that some part of me has been with you all along. It has always been you.