February

Valentine’s Day wasn’t about flowers or grand gestures this time. It wasn’t about making it perfect— it was about her. About the way she makes the ordinary feel like something worth celebrating. The way just hearing her voice that day felt like more than enough. There’s something different about loving her. It’s quieter, deeper. It’s in the little things — the way she laughs at something I said without trying, the way she says my name like it matters. I didn’t need a holiday to feel it, but something about that day made it hit harder. Because I realized I could spend every Valentine’s for the rest of my life trying to explain how much she means to me, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Loving her isn’t about one day. It’s all the days — the quiet ones, the hard ones, the ones where nothing’s happening but she still finds a way to feel like everything. And on Valentine’s, I didn’t just feel lucky. I felt chosen.