The beginning wasn’t a clear yes. It was more like a “not now,” and honestly, that was fair. She wasn’t in a phase where a relationship was even on her radar, it just wasn’t something she was looking for or thinking about, and I got that. I didn’t push it. If the timing wasn’t right then it wasn’t right, and I’d rather sit with that than try to convince someone into something they haven’t chosen for themselves. So I waited. Not dramatically, not like some movie scene where the guy stands in the rain. I just… kept living, and kept the door open.
When things did eventually start, I noticed stuff. Not in some deep “I can read your soul” kind of way, more like… I just started paying attention to the small things, the patterns that most people probably wouldn’t catch unless they were really looking.
Like how she goes quiet sometimes. Not upset-quiet, not angry-quiet, just… somewhere else entirely. I used to panic a little when that happened, like I’d done something wrong or missed something obvious. Now I know it’s just how she processes things. She disappears into her own head for a bit, and then she comes back when she’s ready. I’ve learned to just let that space exist without trying to fill it or fix it.
The thing is, one of my favorite things about her is just talking to her. I could literally sit there for hours just listening to her stories, the way she listens to mine, and not get bored for a second. And now there are boundaries that limit even that. That’s probably why it’s hard. And honestly, it’ll always be hard.
Or how she tends to say yes to everything. Every favor, every invitation that comes her way. Most of the time it’s not because she actually wants to, but because saying no feels like she’s letting someone down. There’s always that tiny pause before she agrees, that little hesitation that most people probably wouldn’t even notice. And the first time I ask about it, she’ll always say “it’s okay, nothing.” Always. But sometimes I just ask again, wait a bit, and that’s usually when she opens up a little bit. Not all the way, but enough for me to understand what’s actually going on in there.
And the “I don’t know.” She says that a lot, especially when a question gets hard or touches something she hasn’t fully sorted out yet. It’s almost never actually “I don’t know.” There’s usually a whole world going on in there that she can’t quite get out yet, or she knows what she wants to say but can’t bring herself to say it. I’ve learned to just sit with it, give it room, and let the real answer show up on its own instead of trying to dig it out of her.
I get it wrong too, though. I still misread things, still can’t always tell when “I’m fine” is actually fine or when it’s the kind of “I’m fine” that means the exact opposite. I’m figuring it out as I go, and honestly I think that’s all you can really do with someone. Just keep paying attention and adjust when you mess up.
She told me once that she was scared loving someone might pull her away from her faith. That being in a relationship would occupy so much of her heart and attention that her commitment to God would start to waver. Like she’d have to choose between the two, and the guilt of even being in that position was already weighing on her. That sat with me for a long time. Because she’s not wrong, it is a gray area, and I know how seriously she takes it. I don’t want to be the reason her faith gets smaller. I don’t want her to look back one day and realize she lost something sacred because I took up too much space. I want to be the person who makes that easier, not harder. I don’t know if I’m always doing that. But I’m trying to be someone she doesn’t have to choose against.
There was this one time I told her to just pick what she wanted to eat. No asking if I was okay with it, no checking, no looking for permission, just… what do you actually want? She told me later how happy that made her. That messed me up a little, honestly. It probably means she spent a long time thinking her own wants needed to be justified, that just wanting something wasn’t enough unless it also made sense for everyone else around her.
Her family let me in. And that’s not a small thing. That’s years of them being careful, years of looking out for her and protecting her, and then deciding to trust me with someone they’ve spent her whole life keeping safe. I think about that more than I probably show. I carry that.
I don’t have her all figured out. I probably never will, and I’ve kind of made peace with that. But the more I learn about her, the more I see the parts she keeps tucked away, the weight she carries when she thinks no one’s watching… the more I want to be here for it. I’ve seen enough. Probably more than enough, considering how short I’ve known her. And I’d choose her anyway. Every single time.