Twenty days after we said yes to us, I was finally ready to see him really see him.
It was the eve of his birthday, and I couldn’t wait any longer.
I came a day early to Indore, heart racing, hands full of nervous excitement.
When I picked him up from his sister’s place, he handed me a small envelope a handwritten letter.
Inside were the most beautiful words anyone had ever given me.
Each line felt like a quiet confession, every curve of his handwriting wrapped in warmth.
We spent the day together at the Airbnb I’d booked.
We half-watched a movie, played games, talked for hours about everything and nothing.
There were jokes, soft smiles, and one tiny fight that ended the only way it could—with both of us crying in each other’s arms.
That moment his head against my shoulder, my fingers in his hair—felt like real home.
Later, I gave him the little box I’d made: photos, fairy lights, folded notes, tiny pieces of love.
He looked so happy, eyes wide and shining, whispering how perfect it all was.
And in that quiet, messy, beautiful space, I realized that this was it.
Not a dream, not a screen just us, breathing the same air at last.
He kept saying things like “You really did all this for me?” and I just smiled because yes, of course I did.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of warmth coffee runs, half-watched movies, the way he kept brushing my hair back when he thought I wasn’t noticing.
We didn’t need anything grand; being together was enough.
That night, while he dozed off against my shoulder, I remember whispering to myself,
“So this is what home feels like.”
💭 “You never forget the first time love steps out of a screen and stands right in front of you breathing, smiling, holding your hand.”
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