You always knew. It was a truth as immutable as the tides: You knew how much he loved you, and he never hesitated to show it. Not with grand, empty gestures, but with that tender, quiet constancy that made the world feel like a safe place. He was so sweet, patient, and gentle with you that not even the differences that often separated you—you, a whirlwind of plans, and him, an anchor of stillness; You, a lover of strong words, and him, of eloquent silences—could create a real love.

They lay on the freshly cut grass, its sweet, earthy scent rising with the cool night air. It was one of those perfect silences, where the only sound was the distant chirping of a cricket, and the only light, the twinkling spectacle above their heads. They gazed at the stars like lovers in old movies, feeling tiny and yet, at the same time, the center of the universe. Suddenly, you broke the stillness with a whisper that wasn't a question, but a simple observation: "Look how beautiful the moon is tonight."

He didn't answer immediately, and instead of gazing at the silvery disc in the sky… He looked at you. His face bathed in the faint moonlight, reflected a love so deep and inexplicable it felt almost physical, a mixture of awe, adoration, and immense peace as he watched your eyes absorb the moonlight and how your expression softened with cosmic beauty. A slow, genuine smile touched his lips, that half-smile he reserved only for you, completely captivated by your fascination. There was no need to search for the moon when the sight before him intoxicated him.

"So beautiful…"

He answered in an almost audible tone, a soft exhalation that faded into the vastness of the sky. His deep voice barely broke the silence, but the meaning was crystal clear: The moon was just the pretext, because it was you… With that absorbed and shining gaze, the one he called "Beautiful," and in that silent exchange joined by only two words, they said everything they needed to know about each other.