Six months.
Half a year of us.
It still feels impossible that so much life can fit into such a small span of time.
From that first “Yoo” that started everything, to the night we said yes, to all the airports, calls, long drives, late-night “I love you”s, and sleepy goodbyes—every moment has stitched itself into something that feels bigger than time.
We’ve fought, cried, rebuilt, and laughed until our stomachs hurt.
We’ve watched movies halfway, danced in tiny rooms, gotten lost in new cities, held each other through storms, real and emotional.
You gave me handwritten letters that still smell faintly of your perfume; I gave you boxes of photos and tiny lights.
You wore the ring I slipped onto your finger on your birthday, and I’ve worn the promise behind it ever since.
Sometimes we’ve been miles apart.. different cities, different routines.. but somehow we’ve always found our way back to each other.
Every message, every call, every “bby” and “miss you” has kept the rhythm of us alive.
You’ve seen me at my best and my worst, and still looked at me like I’m worth staying for.
And I’ve learned that love isn’t measured in grand gestures, it’s in the quiet choices we keep making to stay.
Six months ago I met someone who felt like home.
Today, I wake up grateful that home still feels the same.
💭 “If the first six months have taught me anything, it’s that love doesn’t need to be perfect to be real, it just needs two people who refuse to stop choosing each other.”
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