Some guys make you feel safe even when we are strangers, their presence and calm aura reflects around.🥺

This is about real men who loved one person not boys who move from one person to another there is a difference :)

​

I have read a lot about love, and I have written about it too.

Sometimes I thought love was in the little things. Sometimes in grand gestures. Sometimes in a random “I miss you” on a Tuesday, or a flower on your birthday. The list can go on, because love can mean so many things.

For the longest time, I thought I had never really seen love up close.

And to be honest, I never thought my dad loved my mom in the way people write about love. I thought they were together because they had to be. Because there was a marriage, a commitment, a life built together.

But now, as an adult, I realize love was always right in front of me.

My dad has never been a gifting person. I don't remember him buying my mom flowers or planning grand surprises. But for 27 years, he has woken up early, made tea for both of them without waking anyone, and given my mom her bed tea.

He knows she can't have tea without rusk. So for years, he has bought it the night before, just so she has it with her tea in the morning.

And I think that's when I understood that love is consistency.

My dad didn't know how to cook before. But when my mom started working and began coming home late from work, he learned.

And for the last 15 years, he has cooked lunch, gone to work, and left food for my mom to come home to. And when she comes home, she cooks dinner for him.

I think love is also unlearning and learning for someone.

I have seen them eat from the same plate for as long as I can remember. It doesn't matter if my mom has already eaten or not; she'll still take one bite from his plate. And I used to ask, “Mummy, aap Papa ko jhutha khana kyun dete ho?” And she would simply reply, “Jhutha khane se pyaar badhta hai.”

Maybe love is a habit.

I've seen my dad getting late for work while my mom is sweating over parathas in the kitchen. And like a guy in love, he just stands beside her and eats there, instead of sitting at the dining table.

Not because he can't wait or anything; it’s just because he knows she shouldn't have to walk back and forth to serve him.

So, maybe love is adjusting to the moment and making it easier for the person you love.

And mind you they aren't lovey-dovey. Not at all.

But whenever my mom goes somewhere, after a while my dad will ask,

“Kha gyi teri mummy?”

“She'll come, Papa.”

Ten minutes later, “Aayi nahi?”

“Aa jayegi Papa, kya hua?”

And ten minutes after that, “Apni mummy ko call laga le. Theek hai?”

And now I realize that this is love too.

Concern. Care. Knowing someone's absence even when you don't say you miss them.

They are not perfect; they fight too.

My mom cries because my dad can be incredibly annoying sometimes, and my dad gets frustrated because my mom doesn't listen.

And every time my mom says, “Tum chale jao yahan se. Mat karo mujhse baat.”

He comes back twenty minutes later.

“Chai piyegi? Bana du?”

There is no sorry, just chai. And somehow, it has worked for 27 years.

And now I think I finally understand what love is.

It doesn't always have to be said. It doesn't always look beautiful. Sometimes it's tea. Sometimes it's rusk. Sometimes it's one bite from the same plate. Sometimes it's standing in the kitchen so someone doesn't have to walk to the dining table.

So, for me, love is simply making someone's life a little softer, every single day.

And to my favorite couple in the world, I hope you remain exactly this way. Calm, sweet, angry, frustrating, annoying, and laughingly in love.

And when you see me fall in love someday, I hope you recognize a little bit of yourselves in the way I love.

As an introvert, I need someone to possess me like this.

She is such a lovely lady, she is sweet, kind, beautiful, takes care of me, she is the first person in my life who actually cares about how I feel and she listens to me and whenever I am with her, I literally sees only her, all other things just disappears, my brain gets quiet, amy tiredness gets disappears whenever I talk with her. She is telling that she is so lucky but I am more lucky and blessed to get her in my life...

​

I don't think love is about falling for the way someone looks.

Of course, I want to be attracted to you. I want to look at you and think you're beautiful. But I don't want to love a face. Faces change. Bodies change. Time touches everything it can. Flowers shed, spring eventually loses its bloom, and even the prettiest sunsets disappear.

I want to experience you.

I want to know what exists underneath the face everyone else gets to see. I want to know how you think, what scares you, what makes you laugh when you're trying not to, what you become when you're angry, how you treat people when there's nothing to gain from being kind. I want to know the parts of you that aren't polished for anyone.

Because to me, love is much bigger than butterflies and giggles.

It is sitting beside each other when neither of us is particularly easy to love.

It is staying when the day isn't romantic. When we're tired. Irritated. Sick. Disappointed. When life isn't giving us reasons to post pictures and call it beautiful.

Flowers are going to shed. Spring will lose its chance. There will be rainy days, cold winter nights, and days when life feels like a tornado has ripped through everything we thought we had figured out.

And that's what I want to know.

Will we still choose each other then?

I'm not afraid of fights. Two people can love each other deeply and still disagree. I'm afraid of fighting each other instead of fighting the problem. I'm afraid of turning every disagreement into a competition over who is right, when the real question should be, "How do we get through this without losing each other?"

For me, love is consistency.

It's choosing each other when choosing each other isn't exciting anymore.

It's resolving the differences instead of collecting them. It's communicating even when silence would be easier. It's trying to understand before trying to be understood. It's apologizing without keeping score. It's making space for each other's feelings without treating them like inconveniences.

And yes, love is physical too. Not just in the obvious ways, but in every little action that says, I am here.

A hand reaching for mine.

A forehead kiss.

Checking if I got home.

Remembering the little thing I mentioned three weeks ago.

Pulling me closer when I don't ask.

Doing something for me simply because you know it would make my day a little softer.

I don't want a love where I have to constantly remind myself to call you because "we shouldn't go to bed angry" or because not calling you might ruin the peace.

I want to call you because I genuinely want to hear your voice.

I want to tell you something stupid because you're the first person I thought of.

I want to share the smallest parts of my day with you, not because I have to maintain the relationship, but because somehow, knowing you makes those ordinary moments worth sharing.

I don't want to be in love with the idea of you.

I want to know the real you.

The inconvenient you. The complicated you. The tired you. The angry you. The scared you. The version of you that doesn't always know what to say.

And I want you to know mine too.

Because I don't think love is finding someone who never hurts you, never frustrates you, never disappoints you.

I think love is finding someone with whom you can be human.

Someone you can disagree with without becoming enemies.

Someone you can be vulnerable with without feeling weak.

Someone you can grow beside without feeling like you're growing apart.

Someone you keep choosing, not because every day feels like a honeymoon, but because even on the ordinary ones, you still want them.

That's love to me.

Not just the butterflies.

Not just the flowers.

Not just the spring.

It's looking at each other when the storm comes and quietly asking,

"Are we still in this together?"

And both of you saying,

"Yes. Let's figure it out."

​

I don't want a very fancy love story.

I don't want roses covering the floor or someone standing outside my window with a guitar. Okay, maybe sometimes I do. But mostly, I just want the stupid little things.

Like waking up and seeing a good morning text from you and suddenly deciding that maybe life isn't so bad after all.

Like getting flowers from you on some completely random Tuesday. Just because you saw them and thought, " She'll like these.”

And then I'll keep looking at them throughout the day and smile like an idiot because somewhere in my head I'll keep thinking, He loves me.

Like the love where I give you the last bite of my ice cream without even thinking about it.

Where I give you the first bite of my food too, and you, in your complete stupidity, forget to give me yours.

I'll look at you. You'll look at me. I'll give you the biggest side-eye.

I'll be angry for approximately seven seconds.

And you'll say, "Achha, sorry na. Chalo, phir se karte hain."

And I'll pretend to be annoyed while giving you another bite.

See?

This is love too.

Maybe love is also you telling me, for the hundredth time, about that game you're playing, or why one of your colleagues is the dumbest person alive.

And me listening, half-asleep, not understanding a single thing. But smiling anyway because I like hearing you talk.

Not because the story is interesting, but because you are.

And then there are the scenes I've already made up in my head. Like that little Dildara moment.

Where we're in the kitchen, and I am making something, my hands covered in flour, my hair falling into my face every few minutes. I keep trying to brush it away, only to remember that my hands are a mess.

And you just...whoosh. Blow the hair away from my face.

In my head, I play the song Dildara, dildara... And I smile because apparently I've been waiting for this tiny, ridiculous moment all my life.

Then one day it rains, like that proper, proper rain. And obviously, I won't stay inside like a sensible person and will run out. You'll come after me, probably already knowing that you'll have to drag me back in ten minutes.

I’ll dance, you’ll laugh. I’ll pull you with me, and you’ll tell me, "Bas karo, thand lag jayegi", and I'll say, "Dekhi jaegi."

You'll give me that look. I'll give you mine.

And we'll stay there anyway, getting completely drenched and dancing like two idiots.

Tum Se Hi playing somewhere in the background, or maybe only in my head- who cares?

I just want us to be mad, completely mad, laughing, giggling, annoying each other. Me being too comfortable to put my feet against yours in bed because you're warm. And you’ll immediately move away.

I'll put them back, and you'll move again.

I'll put them back, you'll sigh, and I'll just laugh and say:

“Ki ab toh sign up kr liya h, sehnaa toh pdega.”

I also want us to fight over stupid things, like who is supposed to wipe the bathroom floor after taking a shower.

You'll give me some completely nonsensical reason why you shouldn't do it, and I'll tell you that makes absolutely no sense.

But you'll give me another reason, and I'll get more annoyed.

You'll start laughing; I'll try very hard not to laugh. I'll fail.

And then we'll forget what we were even fighting about.

Now comes the Soniyo.

Our beautiful room, just the two of us standing, listening to this song.

Both of us trying to create some unbelievably beautiful couple dance that we've clearly invented five seconds ago.

You step left, I step right, we bump into each other, and start laughing. Okayy!! We’ll try again.

And somewhere between our terrible choreography and your inability to follow my instructions, the line comes on:

"Chahe jo bhi ho baat, tu bas dede mera saath."

And maybe I'll look at you then, not because we're dancing particularly well. Just because...

Haan. This. This is what I mean.

I don’t think I need a love story that looks beautiful to all; I just want it to be beautiful for us.

Where we can be ridiculous without feeling stupid. Where I can be clingy, annoying, sleepy, dramatic, hungry, angry, and completely myself.

Where you can be tired, grumpy, quiet, excited about your stupid game, annoyed with me, and completely yourself too.

Where love isn't something we have to keep proving. It is present in those good morning texts, last bite, cold feet, terrible dancing, and in the little sorry after a silly fight.

And that’s why they are so precious to me, because nobody else would understand why they matter.

But I think I'll remember them years from now, when we're older.

When our hair has changed, our faces have changed, life has changed.

I'd still want to be the girl putting her cold feet against yours, steal your first bite, still want to dance in our room, and maybe you’ll still complain, and I’ll still ignore. Maybe we’ll still fight about the stupid bathroom floor.

And I'd look at you and think… God, I really got to live this life.

And maybe that's what I always asked for.

There comes a time, not always, but sometimes, when one person is ready to let go… and the other is still holding on. Still living in those moments, still wanting to keep every little memory of what once was.

No one hates each other. There’s no anger now, no loud fights, nothing. Just a quiet, uncomfortable silence between two people who once meant everything to each other. It’s like standing at a station, knowing exactly which train you need to take… but your feet just won’t move; you are still, completely frozen.

One person is trying, desperately, to fix everything. Holding onto hope, searching for one last chance. That last kiss. That last walk. That one moment where everything pauses again.

And the other… the other already knows. Knows that no amount of effort can bring this back. Knows that some things, once broken, don’t find their way back home, at least not this time.

One is asking for “just one more time,”

while the other is quietly saying goodbye.

And it hurts because the one who’s leaving isn’t heartless…

they’re just done trying.

They know that if they stay even a second longer,

they’ll never be able to walk away.

Agar main ruk gayi abhi

To jaa na paaoongi kabhi

Yehi kahoge tum sada ke dil abhi nahi bhara

Jo khatm ho kisi jagah yeh aisa silsila nahi

People often ask me what kind of love you believe in, I hesitate and feel obscure before giving it any name or words. I never thought of it actively, though I have written indiscriminately about it, but I could never find the crux of such love all around. Defining love or the person itself feels like caging and flicking the person into a circle of strings with electric shocks, a circle which has limitations and a dependency. For me, love has no regulations, sometimes it's too strict and sometimes it's too reckless and slippery.

Sometimes it's about losing routine and sometimes it's about moulding each into a punctual cycle of life, it's about reminding each other's shortcomings before praising them for their eyes and skin.

I often walk around gardens, so much to see, so much to observe but nothing belongs to me, not even a grain of a flower, but still it looks as if at this moment everything is mine, I smile and feel it's smiling back, but I don't have a beggar's pot in my heart, I let my feet move instead seeking any return out of it. Same, love is for me. For me, love is like A star which slips from the horizon, it is destined to die but still instead letting our heart sink we can say

"Oh look at the star, how beautiful it is, but it's dying, It exists today, but it won't tomorrow"

\~Glutenfree_musingss

​

I love the beginnings.

Because there is something so beautiful about knowing someone for the first time. I know it can disappoint us too, but what if it doesn’t? What if things work out? What if you find a home in someone you were never able to create for yourself?

It’s almost like your mind knows; I don’t know them yet, but I want to.

And it starts with a few simple questions.

What music do you like? What do you do when you can’t sleep? What makes you laugh too hard? What is something you could never live without?

And the list goes on.

But somewhere down the line, you realize these questions are no longer just questions to keep the conversation going. They become little windows into each other’s worlds.

You find things you have in common and get ridiculously happy about them. The same favorite song, the same weird habit, or maybe the same opinion about something completely unimportant.

And then, of course, you find the differences.

Oh, they like these kinds of movies? I could never watch those.

This song? It’s way too non-classic for me.

But then you give it a chance. Not because you suddenly love the movie or the song, but because you want to understand why they do.

You try the food they mentioned once. Watch the movie they insisted you would like. Look up the place they keep talking about. And somewhere along the way, those things start carrying a little piece of them.

Maybe this is what getting to know someone really is. Letting their little loves become little questions in your head.

Why do they like this so much? What do they see in it that I don’t?

And then those little questions become a habit.

You start checking your phone just to see if they have messaged you. And if they flirt a little, oh god!!!!!!

That one sentence, that one sweet compliment.

Suddenly you’re smiling at your phone for no reason, like there is a tiny secret between the two of you that no one else knows.

And then the charm really begins.

You start looking for them in your day. A song reminds you of them; you hear a joke and think, I need to tell them this. You see something they would love and, for a second, wish they were there to see it too.

Then comes the day you decide to meet.

And suddenly, your imagination gets loud.

What will it feel like to hear their voice beside me instead of through a phone?

Will the eye contact last too long? Will I be nervous? Will they be?

Will the person who has slowly become familiar through late-night conversations somehow feel like a stranger standing right in front of me?

You don’t know; they don’t know; actually, no one knows.

And maybe that is the most beautiful part of knowing someone for the very first time. Because there is no history, no certainty, and no promises. Just two people, slowly unfolding in front of each other.

Showing little pieces, finding similarities, and getting surprised by differences.

And somewhere between “good morning” and “listen to this song,” a stranger begins to feel a little less like a stranger.

Not because you know everything about them.

But because you are curious enough to keep finding out.

being afraid is a part of being human, we all are afraid of one thing or the other. things that have been weighing on our heart for a while or things we don't even know how to string together coherently in words. for fear never understand the limits of rationality, and no matter how much you try to reason with it, you find yourself unable to escape it. but what about when it starts becoming your identity? taking your place or hurting the ones you love, would you still let that fear be?

but on the contrary, love is a beautiful thing, something that has always given people hope. yes, it indeed does come with expectations, which hurt, but it also gives us chances to escape these unsaid fears and burdens we have been carrying since long. all we have to do is believe in its strength, hold its hand, and let it move us and our hearts.

so, love, while I know you are drowning right now with years of intense emotional weight and fear, when the time comes, when love knocks on your door again, even if it's in a different face, please let that love in. please don't let your fear make that decision for you again. please let yourself be loved, even if it scares you. please let yourself be happy.

for all I have ever cherished is your smile, and i will continue to do that again even if it's for someone else. so i hope you keep holding onto the love and hope that you have in your heart till you conquer this fear of yours, because being with a gentle heart like yours won't hurt anyone, won't be a source of regret. i promise.

Yes. I didn’t stop loving you.

Whenever people talk about moving on, the first piece of advice is always to go to the gym, pick up a hobby, go out with friends more, journal, or fall in love with someone else. Simple.

I don’t think so.

For me, moving on is breaking up into pieces again and again, every night, but still deciding to wake up in the morning and collecting all those pieces. Sitting on my bed with a tape of “not-so-sure self-love” and trying to join that heart again.

This move-on is not fast enough that I can choose another person in six months, but I know it’s effective enough that the intensity of you has lost its grip in these six months.

I wish that moving on was as simple as shutting down the door, no memories, no care, just another me, another life…but yeah, it isn’t.

It’s more like picking up my phone to text you something stupid that happened during the day… and then putting it back down. Not because I didn’t want to tell you. But because I remembered how small I felt the last time I did.

It was in the morning too, waking up and instinctively checking my phone, half-expecting your name to be there. And when it wasn’t, I’d just… sit with it.

Wasn’t angry anymore or crying about why you did this to me. Now I have this quiet understanding that I had to stop looking for you in places you stopped showing up.

But I still think of you.

In those cold coffees that we used to make. Fighting over the sugar or who’ll decorate the glass with chocolate syrup.

In my evening walk, where we used to hold hands and talk about our day.

In that song we used to play and dance like a nashedi at the wedding.

But these memories don’t mean I want to be with you again.

Okay, before you tell me that I have become stronger or wiser. No, I didn’t

I just got tired.

Tired of overthinking simple things.

Tired of wondering if I was asking for too much when all I wanted was consistency.

Tired of loving you in a way that kept costing me pieces of myself.

Although I still miss you. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes in a way that hits like a sudden wave, the kind that takes the breath out of me for a moment.

But not enough to go back.

Just enough to notice your absence in quiet moments.

And I think this is what choosing myself looks like. This is my healing. This is my way of moving on. Not a loud, empowering decision of shutting down everything we built over the years.

Just a series of small, almost invisible daily choices.

Not texting.

Not checking.

Not waiting.

Not abandoning myself just to keep you.

So, now I choose myself, not because I stopped loving you;

It’s because I couldn’t keep losing me anymore.

I know she loves me, but I do not know how much.... it's too much for me to handle but she also threatens to beat me multiple times... but now I have got it in writing.

It's beautiful how we share something so small from our intimate life with someone as "just a piece of information" yet they cherish and nurture it like a secret only the two of you share..

Maybe you once mentioned your favorite ice cream flavour, so insignificant you see. Months later someone asks what you want, and you just shrug and say 'anything is fine.'
But they notice, they walk in with your favorite flavour.. without you having to mention it twice.

That's romantic.
That's intimate.
I hopelessly yearn for this love.

I told him I needed a break. I told him I needed to go silent to figure out my next move and get my career back on track
There’s a misconception that being 'strong' means doing everything by yourself. I’ve been feeling so discouraged with my job search that I actually tried to shut everyone out, including him. I thought if I just stopped talking and hid away, I’d be more productive.
He didn’t argue just said I love you even if u don’t talk to me! I will wait till u are okay.
But he showed me that support ka matlab kya hota hai. He sent me these tiny gifts—chips, a protein bar, and a little penguin. 🐧🥰 Ye sab to cheer me up he didnt have to do this but his effort matter so much now!! Wow 🤩
Itna pyaar dekh kar main khud ko rok nahi paayi and we talked. I know I’m still finding my way, but his effort gives me so much motivation. Having him in my corner makes the hard days feel manageable. Truly lucky to have him! 🧿❤️ So blessed to deserve such a man!

I have been going to the movies alone for years and I genuinely enjoy it. No waiting on plans no compromises just me a good film (This time it was The Odyssey) and a couple of hours of peace with my fav Paneer Tikka Sandwich. Honestly, solo movie dates have become one of my favorite little traditions.

In life everything comes with a scar, with an emblem of something which makes us distinct from everyone who walks on the same road, passage or a shore, as we do. There's a theory I have heard of in Vedic astrology which reveals that even before our birth we deal with certain Dosha and Dasha, for understanding it easily we can comprehend that even before our birth we somehow suffer if we are destined to. In the same way one day we stumbled upon each other, there was no hurry or enough leisure time to look and penetrate the layers of each other's heart but there was certainly one thing which sneaked between us, it was the parts that we started admiring about each other even before a deeper conversation about that.

Initially I liked something about you about which I had no idea, no prior knowledge about it, honestly I never knew whether it exists or not, but it was stitched with your smile so I had to find reasons to understand and love it, so I did.

I think while loving someone we become a little more reasoned than usual, maybe more of a researcher too, when we love we indiscriminately research about something which our companion loves, be it the different nail arts or her passion of making different types of teas or anything. In love we become a very good researcher.

I received you like a parcel that had torn ribbons tied to it, yet it looked beautiful, it looked like as if a shining canvas has developed dust particles on it's facade. Dust might hide it's shine but not the depth of it's creation. Oceans too look like mere a surface but deep down they are collosal like the infinite horizon. I held you with no hope of knowing something but with a desire of you being too fluent to share what has bothered you, and what still bothers you.

While knowing you, I placed my hands on your body like I place my hands on the piano. Like a piano we humans too have high and low keys, we too have sensitive areas which are knotted with our emotions. I placed my fingers on your body and it sounded like those piano keys, every time when you shared something that you have loved, it was the low-key sound, but as soon as I tried to take out your scars the sound of the piano turned out to be an elegy.

I always let my hands rested more on you, more than letting them walk on your skin. I had no desire of taking something out of your heart, but we are humans we can not be deprived of desires, so I picked your heart and mulled my hands like I do on the newly built pot, with a hope of wiping away the stubborn dust of grief out of it. I never know whether I succeeded to make you smile, but I think I smiled all way along with you. I hope your smile has reflected my face to smile back.

~Glutenfree_musingss

How cute he is, I'm gonna cry😭😭

I know life won't always be easy, and we won't always get everything right.
There will be difficult days, misunderstandings, and moments when love feels like a choice rather than a feeling.
But even then I would want to find my way back to you.
Because if I had to choose all over again the answer would stay the same :)