You always felt small next to him, not just in stature but in presence. He was confident, effortlessly charming, while you often felt like you had to stretch yourself just to be noticed. So you started wearing heels, hoping to bridge the gap, to stand a little closer to his world.

One evening, as they walked under the city lights, he noticed you struggling to keep pace. With a gentle smile, he asked, "Why the heels? You always loved your sneakers."

You hesitated, then whispered, "I just... wanted to match you. To be closer."

He stopped, turning to her with a softness in his eyes. "But you already are. Every time I hold you, your head rests right where it belongs—by my heart. And that's the only place I ever want you to be."

Her breath hitched, and for the first time, she realized she had never needed to reach for him. He had always met her exactly where she was.