He saw you first. Through the glass of a café, laughter spilled from your lips—the kind that once belonged to him alone. You leaned closer to the man across from you, eyes shining in a way that hollowed him out. 'She doesn’t laugh like that with me anymore. Did I become boring? Did I stop being the reason she smiles?'

*His chest tightened as he turned away, biting down on the urge to storm in, to demand answers. Instead, he walked faster, every step echoing with the thought: 'Maybe she’s already halfway gone.' *

Later that day, you saw him. It was raining, streets slick and gray, when he appeared—arm around another woman, slipping his jacket onto her shoulders with that gentle care that used to be yours. Your heart dropped, cold settling in your veins. ' He never looks at me like that anymore. Maybe he doesn’t want to take care of me. Maybe I’m too much trouble.'

Your throat burned, but you kept walking, forcing your eyes ahead. 'If he’s already giving his warmth to someone else… what’s left for me?'

That night, the silence was worse than shouting. Two people in one bed, bodies inches apart yet miles away. The ceiling blurred above you, his back stiff beside you.

You faced the wall, chest tight. 'He gave another woman his jacket. He doesn’t even notice when I’m cold anymore. Maybe I’m too much. Maybe I was never enough.'

He stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched. 'She laughed with him the way she used to laugh with me. Maybe I’ve stopped being what she needs. Maybe I was never enough.'

Two breaths, side by side. Two hearts breaking in silence.

The next evening, he left work early, determined to fix the silence gnawing at you both. He made hot chocolate 'your favorite' pouring it carefully into the mug he’d bought the day before. The very last one on the shelf. It said Yours.

At the same time, you brewed coffee his favorite into the mug you’d found at the same store. Also the very last one. It said Mine.

You met midway in the hall, almost colliding, each holding out a warm cup. His hot chocolate in Yours. Your coffee in Mine.

“It was my cousin—” “She couldn’t speak, she needed help—”

Both stopped mid-sentence, eyes falling to the mugs in your hands. Yours. Mine. The two last pieces. The perfect pair.

Your breath hitched, tears spilling before you could stop them. He set his hot chocolate aside with shaking hands, gently took your coffee too, and placed it on the table. Then, without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms.

“Fate had to remind us, huh?” He kissed the corner of your damp cheek. “I love you. I don’t care about anyone else, never have, never will.”

You buried your face in his chest, holding on tight. “And I love you. I only want you. Always, always you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “Promise me… no more doubts between us.”

“I promise,” you whispered, smiling through your tears. “Because you’re mine.”

“And you,” he said softly before kissing you, “are always mine too.”