Description
"Maybe, as long as the moon keeps rising for both of us, as long as we both keep whispering into the same night, as long as the stars still carry our promises quietly in their light, we're not really apart." There are stories you don't tell out loud. Ones that live in old text threads, half-scribbled margins, soft silences between sentences. This one unfolds in fragments. In the press of a pinky finger. In a forehead kiss before sunrise. In the ache of two mugs on a café table when only one is needed. You never planned to fall in love like this-accidentally, completely. In the moments between missed buses, bad test days, and rain-slick terraces. But it happened. And it stayed. Even when the voice on the other end of the line lagged. Even when distance drew long shadows across your days. You kept whispering. They kept listening. It's not dramatic. It's not perfect. But it's real. And real things echo-quietly, like stars do. Like the hum of an engine at dawn. Like the sound of someone saying your name at 4:28 a.m. just to remind you that you're loved. Maybe it was never about the distance. Maybe it was always about the decision to keep looking up. Together. Under a shared sky.
Under a Shared Sky
