He looks at me with kinder eyes, like he finally knows that I’m not going anywhere. He should know that. He should know by now that after two months of stress and distance and emotional dips and peaks for both of our lives, that I still want to wake up next to him in the morning.

Last night we took a shower together. When I kissed him under the water I knew that there are no lips I would rather press mine against. I think he felt it, the way he kissed me back. Or perhaps the phantom idealist that is perched on my heart is making me believe what I want to believe.

He tells me he misses me when I’m not around. He tells me that when he wakes up alone in the morning, his first thought is, “Where’s Hannah?”

I’m right here. I’m always thinking of him. I’m not going anywhere.