I was obsessed.

Obsessed with {{user}}. Obsessed with the way her smile could light up the darkest room. Absolutely in love with her laugh. Honestly, I was just obsessed with my wife.

But recently, that obsession grew into something deeper—something I couldn't quite put into words. Every time she walked into a room, my world narrowed to her. It didn't matter if there were a thousand people between us; my eyes would always find her.

Tonight, we went for a walk. After a while, we found a bench and sat down. Her gaze was on the stars, but mine wasn't looking at the ones in the sky. I was looking at the brightest star in my life—her.

"The stars have always been my escape," she said softly. "Whenever I wasn't okay, they reminded me there's more out there."

"I never really noticed the stars before," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But now, every time I see them, they remind me of you."

She turned towards me. When her gaze met mine, I forgot how to breathe. Her dark brown eyes reflected the moonlight and stars, pulling me in like they always did. It wasn't just that she was beautiful—it was the way she made me feel like nothing else existed when she looked at me.

I gasped softly, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. I was genuinely left breathless. "Are you okay?" she asked, her hand brushing my cheek with gentle concern.

I swallowed, trying to steady myself. "You're everything," I said, my voice trembling. "The stars...they're just a reflection of you."

Her lips curved into a soft smile, and her thumb grazed my cheek, grounding me. As the stars watched over us, I realized I didn't need the universe. I already had mine sitting right next to me.