The Third Love

They say love is blind, but I don't believe that. Love sees everything—the flaws, the past, the insecurities—and stays anyway. And that's how we loved each other.

Through the eyes of love, I didn't just see Zeon's strength. I saw his fear of failing. His quiet moments of doubt. The way he clenched his jaw when he was stressed. The soft way he blinked when trying to hide tears.

And he saw me too. Not just the smile I gave to the world. He saw the tired girl beneath the surface. The one who sometimes needed reassurance. The one who flinched at certain words because of what the past had left behind. But he never judged me for it. He held my hand tighter instead.

We began seeing love not just in grand moments—but in the smallest acts. In the way he warmed my side of the bed before I slipped in. In how I packed his lunch with little notes. In the prayers we whispered at night for each other, not just for ourselves.

---

One weekend, we visited an old couple from his neighborhood. They'd been married 40 years. When the husband looked at his wife, there was still light in his eyes.

"What's the secret?" Zeon asked them.

The old man smiled. "We never stopped looking at each other with love. Not with anger. Not with boredom. With love—even when we were hurting."

That stuck with us.

We started practicing that even in disagreement. Looking at each other not as enemies—but as two people fighting to stay close.

---

Zeon started calling me his peace. I didn't know what it meant until he told me one night, "The world can be loud. But you quiet everything when you speak."

And to me, he was home. Not a place, not a building. Just his presence. The way I could fall apart in front of him and know I'd be picked up gently.

We made new traditions. A monthly "no-phone" night where we'd light candles and just talk. A shared playlist we'd add songs to for each other. A gratitude journal that held memories of our favorite days.

There was no ring yet. No big wedding. But there was us.

Fully seen.

Fully loved.

Through every phase, every trial, every joy—we looked at each other the same way we did the day we met.

And maybe that's what real love is.

Looking.

And still choosing.