You never promised heaven, But you built it in your silence. Not with grand gestures— but in the way you remembered my favorite color and made me forget the hidden pains. You didn’t shout your love, you whispered it in the stillness between my storms— in the way your presence said, “I see you,” before I ever spoke, the way it shows the way before I get lost. There was no music, no noise, no instruments, no sound— but somehow your laugh became the song I prayed not to forget, the song I wished to place on a loop. You taught me that pure love isn’t loud— it’s constant. It waits at the door without asking why I’m late. It stays when the crowd fades. You made me see that pure love is one as clear as day, as deep as the ocean, as mysterious as night, and as loving as nature. Love like yours doesn’t beg to be seen— it simply is. Unshaken, untouched, by the need to prove itself. And if I never find it again, I will still be grateful— because for one moment, in a world of noise and need, I was loved without condition.