Theirs was the love story that doesn’t make it into romance novels or blockbuster films. It lacked the dramatic highs and lows, the grand gestures and tearful reunions. Their love wasn’t born of love-at-first-sight or sealed with a passionate kiss in the rain. But make no mistake, their love was real—rooted in a quieter, understated kind of magic.
They had their quirks, their moments of irritation, and doubts that surfaced like weeds in an unkempt garden. Yet, they remained, solid and enduring. Their love wasn’t flashy; it didn’t demand attention. It was the kind of love that carried groceries, folded laundry, and remembered how each liked their coffee.
They could list each other’s flaws as easily as their virtues, and sometimes wondered if there was someone “better” out there. But in those quiet moments, when the world stilled and it was just the two of them, they realized the profundity of their ordinary love. It was in those mundane moments that they were perfect for each other, not in spite of their imperfections, but because of them.
No, theirs wasn’t a love story that would set the world on fire, but it was one that kept them warm, day in and day out, and that was enough. They were, indeed, perfect for each other, in a most unsatisfyingly satisfying way.
Trail Wood,
9/6
Leave a Reply