Love isn't proven in the butterflies.
It's proven in the breakdowns.
In the quiet days after a storm, when you're still hurting… and yet, you stay.
When you could walk away, but instead, you choose to rebuild.
That's what we were now.
Not perfect.
Not the honeymoon phase.
But something real.
She could've left. I didn't even stop her.
I told her to take care. To eat her meals. To drink water like she always forgets to.
I let her go, not because I didn't love her…
But because I did. Enough to want better for her even if it wasn't me.
And yet…
She stayed.
Maybe not with the same lightness.
Maybe not with full trust.
But she stayed.
And sometimes, that's how love survives.
Not through grand gestures — but through presence.
Through "I'm still here" when everything says you shouldn't be.
We had changed.
There were no more silly texts 24/7.
Life had gotten busy. Work piled up. Texts got missed.
But the bond? It held on. Tired, maybe. But it held.
Because at the end of it all…
We weren't fighting to feel the same way we did in the beginning.
We were fighting to grow into something deeper.
Less fireworks.
More warmth.
Less obsession.
More understanding.
Less "you're mine,"
More "I choose you."
This wasn't the prettiest version of our story.
But it was the strongest.
And when people ask how we survived?
I'll say this:
We didn't go back to what we were.
We became something better.
The version of us… we fought for.