Roots of Love
Love did not arrive loudly in Lala and Daniel’s married life.
It came softly—
in the pause between waking and speaking,
in the unremarkable moments that stitched days together,
in the quiet learning of how to exist beside another soul without losing oneself.
Marriage did not feel like a celebration that refused to end.
It felt like a beginning that chose patience.
Morning Light
Their mornings began without ceremony.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains, gentle and forgiving, touching the wall before touching them. Lala often woke first, not because she slept less, but because her mind liked the early hours—the stillness, the chance to gather herself before the world intruded.
She would lie there for a while, listening to Daniel breathe.
There was comfort in that
