Witnesses of Love

Witnesses of Love No one saw it happen. Not when my days began borrowing light from the mention of your name, nor when my nights learned patience waiting for a voice they could not hold. But the mirror knew. It watched smiles arrive uninvited, watched a face become a home to a happiness it could not explain. The rain knew too. Why else would it linger at my window whenever thoughts of you grew too heavy for silence? And the moon— that faithful keeper of secrets— followed me through countless nights, gathering the pieces of conversations I replayed like sacred verses. Even my prayers became witnesses. They carried your name to places my hands could never reach, placing it gently before the One who knows what hearts conceal. The world may call it coincidence: the lingering glances, the softened voice, the way ordinary moments began to shimmer with meaning. But the stars know better. They watched two souls, separated by distance, time, and uncertainty, yet somehow moving toward each other like rivers that have already heard the ocean calling. So if anyone asks where proof of this love can be found, do not search my lips. Ask the moon. Ask the rain. Ask the sleepless nights. They were there. They