Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails.
I have never felt this content before. The feeling comes quietly but settles deep, like something that has always belonged to me and has finally found its place. I want to do all the things I have imagined with you. Once I begin thinking about it, my thoughts spiral forward, unwilling to stop. Even when fear tries to seep in—when doubt whispers that I should hesitate—I push ahead anyway. I will do it all for you. I choose to do it for you. To love you, and more.
Tell me, how did I come to care for you this deeply? Even when I was unsure of myself, you were the first person my mind reached for. To create a diamond, a rough stone must be refined, its best parts drawn out with patience and care. That is what you do to me. You pull out the best in me—not forcefully, not crudely, but gently. You wait. You believe. You hope for my best even when I struggle to recognize it myself.
How could I not love you, when you have been loving me for so long? I know you have. And now, I am ready to love you in return. No more waiting—only moving forward with patience, self-control, and kindness. I will do my best with God's grace. For you, and for myself, I will learn to love us both. No more drowning in melancholy. Love, joy, and peace—this is what it means to live.
"Joel, are you serious about Adah?" The air in the kitchen turns solemn, thick with the faint scent of cocoa lingering from earlier.
"Dad, I'm serious about her." Joel's voice is steady, grounded. "I wouldn't want to be with anyone else. She's the one for me. I love her dearly. There is nothing I wouldn't do for her."
A light chuckle fills the room, blending with the soft clink of glass. "You really do love her," his father says. "Have you prayed over it?"
A sigh of reassurance leaves Joel's lips. "I have. I wouldn't be this certain otherwise. I've prayed, and I understand my heart well. I'm not unsure or wavering—I can't be. I'll be a place of comfort and strength for her. I know I can."
A third voice enters the conversation.
"Uncle, Dad said some deliveries arrived for the chocolate factories." Hands clap together, echoing against marble. Joel's father leaves through the back door, and the conversation loosens, the weight easing.
"So," the newcomer says, amused, "you're finally dating Adah?"
"Not going to ask how I've been?" Joel replies dryly.
They both laugh. "Alright, I'll start. How have you been, Zion?"
"I've been doing well, my sweet baby cousin. How was your date yesterday?"
Joel clicks his tongue. "I told you to stop calling me that. I start university in eight months. I'm a grown man."
"Yeah, I'm sure you are," Zion teases. "So—are you content?"
The scrape of chairs against marble makes me wince from where I stand nearby, my fingers curling around the edge of the basket.
"I've never felt this fulfilled," Joel says. "Even when I doubted myself, nothing has felt as right as this. She's made my life feel fuller. New emotions keep surfacing—ones I didn't know how to name before. And that fake smile you hate?" He pauses. "She made it disappear."
"Thank God," Zion says. "Sometimes it looked like you weren't enjoying life at all."
"Well, that's changed. I've never wanted someone like this. Because of her, I speak to God more. I spend more time reading His word. I don't think she realizes the effect she's had on me." He exhales slowly. "I love her. I truly do."
He grows quiet, then softer. "If I could, I'd tell her every day. She's made my world brighter. I've only ever shown her my lighter side, but I think she sensed there was more underneath. I just want to hold her—watch the sun dip low with her in my arms, my head resting against her shoulder…"
"Alright," Zion cuts in quickly. "That's enough. Save that for Adah. You're making me blush."
My cheeks burn. I suddenly feel parched, my heart beating faster than it should. I never realized I carried this much weight in someone else's heart. Or maybe I did—and I was afraid to trust it. I lightly slap my cheek before stepping fully into the kitchen.
"Joel," I say softly. "Aren't you the famous household name—Adah?"
He lightly kicks Zion under the table. "Stop."
"What did you need, Adah?" he asks, turning to me.
I can't quite look at him the same way now. "Your mother wanted to know if the ingredients for the chocolate factories arrived."
"They did. Did I make you wait too long for dessert?" He rises, already closing the distance between us.
"It's fine. Your mom made sure I didn't go hungry."
"But I'm not fine," he says with a grin. "Zion, I'm heading out."
"Knock yourselves out," Zion replies easily.
Later, he looks at me, eyes bright. "What were you doing while I was gone?"
"I talked with your family a bit," I say. "Mostly listened. I ate a lot of snacks and—"
A quiet laugh escapes him. "That basket is really full."
I stop mid-thought. The basket. His mother and aunts had filled it with sweets, wrappers crinkling softly under my grip, insisting I eat more and share with him. I'd forgotten it entirely while lingering near the kitchen door.
"What's so funny?" I ask.
"You looked adorable explaining everything like it was a job interview," he says, laughter free and warm. "Especially with that basket in your hands." He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingers warm.
"What did you talk about with my mom and aunts… did you mention our date?"
"Yes," I reply. "They were worried we did too much, but I told them I enjoyed it. I love spending time with you."
"You do?" His smile is soft, almost unsure.
"Yes. I do."
He leans closer. "Adah—open your mouth."
"What?"
A piece of chocolate slips past my lips. I freeze, then laugh as sweetness melts on my tongue. "Where did you get that?"
"From the bowl behind you," he admits, cheeks faintly flushed.
"Don't bite your lip," he murmurs, reaching toward my face—then stopping himself.
"I'm not biting it," I whisper. "I'm holding back laughter."
His mother calls for us, anchoring us again. The living room hums with voices and warmth. A tray of desserts appears, bright with color and dusted sugar.
I watch as he explains each pastry, the soft scent of chocolate and vanilla hanging in the air, his eyelashes catching the light, his smile effortless. For a moment, everything else blurs.
"Adah?"
I blink. "Sorry."
"You okay?"
"I am," I say quietly. And for once, I know it's true.
Loving you
is wonderful.
He loves her—
all of her.
The small gestures you make
mean more than words can say.
I am completely immersed—
not drowning, but alive.
This is what peace feels like.
To the one who truly cares.
I will always be grateful.
Ethereal, almost heavenly—
that is how it feels to see you.