The waves of love in my life

Some love stories are like fire—intense, wild, impossible to contain.

But this… what Mira and Aaron had now… was more like light.

It didn't burn.

It warmed.

Weeks passed since the article was published.

Mira had started writing again—openly, publicly.

Her inbox was full of strangers thanking her for being brave. Some sent their own stories. Some just said, "Me too."

But the most important response didn't come in an email.

It came from Aaron—every day, in a hundred quiet ways.

Like the way he started leaving notes around her apartment:

• "You are not what happened to you."

• "Take your time today."

• "Let's write something ugly and true tonight."

Or the way he always waited a second longer during a hug, as if making sure she didn't drift away.

One evening, they cooked dinner together—something so simple, so ordinary, but it felt like magic.

"I used to burn toast," Mira admitted, laughing as she flipped the pan.

Aaron grinned. "That's okay. I used to eat cereal with a fork."

She laughed harder than she had in days. Not because the joke was great, but because it felt safe to laugh again.

Later, on the balcony, under string lights and soft wind, she looked at him and asked:

"Why do you stay?"

Aaron didn't hesitate.

"Because you don't run anymore. And neither do I."

That night, they wrote together.

Mira worked on a new piece—an open letter to her younger self.

Aaron started writing his first ever poem. He never planned to show it, but Mira caught him halfway through.

She read it softly, like holding a bird in her hands.

*You were made of storms,

and I was terrified of thunder.

But you taught me the lightning never stayed forever—

and somehow, we survived the rain.*

Mira teared up. "You're a writer."

He smiled. "No. I just love someone who makes me want to say things out loud."

They kissed like it wasn't a promise—but a continuation.

In the past, Mira had always feared love would leave.

But now, it stayed.

It listened.

It grew.

Not into something perfect.

But into something real.