And this time, you tell her.

When she comes home from work, you are standing outside her door.

You gather every inch of courage in your body and tell her. That you have loved her in silence for so long. That you have never forgotten, the lines from her favourite books and the chorus of her favourite songs. You have loved, all that she loved and lived with memories she'd left with you.

Do you remember? You ask. Drinking chai as it rained?

Do you remember making paper airplanes together, while studying at the university library?

Do you remember? Crying over a sad movie together?

Do you remember? You ask her

And she says - Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, I remember.

Yes, I remember, she says.

I remember the sound of your laughter and the mess of your hair after you've run your hands through it. I remember the rough skin of your palm when you steadied me in bustling crowds.

I remember you like the vanishing moon remembers the sun. Yearning. Helpless.

And you tell her, that you have always been hers. You are hers, if she will have you.

She looks into your eyes for a moment, seconds feel like minutes.

You wait. Afraid. Afraid of what comes next. But she steps into your arms. Into you. Her cheek is pressed against your heart and all the colours of the universe seep into her, until she is the entire universe and you are entirely hers.

THE END