People keep saying

“love should be fun”

and perhaps for the first time in my life, i finally understand what they mean. Loving her does not feel like walking on shattered glass or constantly fearing abandonment disguised as romance. It feels soft. Easy. Safe. With her, love is hidden inside the smallest things laughing until my stomach aches at 2 a.m, listening to my endless thoughts without making me feel “too much”, letting silence exist without turning it into distance. She makes love feel less like survival and more like coming home after an exhausting day. And damn, there's something healing about being loved by somebody who never makes affection feel conditional.

I think my favourite thing about us is how peaceful my heart becomes around her. i no longer feel the need to shrink myself just to be understood. She holds every complicated part of me so gently that even my loudest thoughts become quiet in her presence. Being loved by her feels like warm streetlights during midnight walks, like sleepy phone calls, like finally putting down armour i have worn for far too long. If this is what people mean when they say

love should be fun

then perhaps love was never supposed to hurt the way we romanticised it, perhaps it was always meant to feel like this, soft laughter, safe hands, and two girls choosing each other without fear.

I still remember the way she once told me, “we both look pretty in dresses” so casually, as though she had not just healed something fragile inside me. And perhaps that is what love with her has always been soft little sentences that stay lingering in my chest far longer than they should. There was something unbearably tender about the thought of us standing side by side, two girls wrapped in delicate fabric and quiet affection, looking beautiful without competition, without comparison, simply existing together. Ever since then, dresses no longer remind me merely of elegance they remind me of her of comfort, gentleness, and the strange warmth of being loved by somebody who makes femininity feel safe rather than fragile.

Some people keep photographs, letters, or pressed flowers between the pages of old books. I keep her inside a song. It started with a simple video she made for me, stitched together with Penjaga Hati playing softly in the background, yet somehow that memory settled itself permanently within my heart. Since then, the song has never belonged solely to its artist anymore a part of it belongs to her. Every lyric feels like an echo of her voice, every melody carries fragments of moments we shared. And now, whenever i miss her a little too much, i find myself returning to that song as if it were a doorway back to her. I press play, and suddenly she is everywhere again in the music, in the memories, and in the quiet corners of my heart where she has always lived.

There are questions that people forget moments after asking them, and then there are questions that remain etched into the heart forever. Mine was painfully simple. Would you be my girlfriend my dearest Faith Serreaphy? Yet behind those four words lived every feeling i had spent so long carrying in silence. It was not merely a question it was a confession, a hope, and a quiet leap into the unknown all at once. In that moment, i was asking whether i could call you my girl, whether i could cherish you openly, whether you would allow me the privilege of becoming a part of your life whilst making you an inseparable part of mine. And of all the words i have ever spoken, none have felt as frightening or as beautiful as “Would you be my girlfriend?” oh i wish i could tell you more about how much i really adore and i love you @wmlliam