“You had me worried that you were going to give up on me,” he says.
“Give up on you?”
“You’re the only constant in my life; you know that, don’t you? I don’t know what I would do if you left me,” he says.
“I won’t leave you if you don’t give me a reason to,” I assure him, but I can’t think of a single thing he could do to make me leave him. I’m in too deep. Thinking of leaving him sends a pain through my body that I can’t bear. It would break me. Even if we fight every single day, I love him.
“I won’t,” he says. He looks away for a second, then meets my eyes again. “I like who I am with you.”
I turn my cheek into his hand farther. “I do, too.”
I love him, every part of him. All versions of him. Mostly, I like who I have become with him; we have both been changed for the better by each other. I have somehow gotten him to open up and have brought happiness to him, and he has taught me how to live and not worry about every detail.