Through October’s golden leaves, November’s quiet chill, and December’s soft ending, we remained distant, yet unwavering.

I was still healing, body stitched and spirit tired.
You were deep in your studies, chasing your future one lecture at a time.
We couldn’t always be close.
But never once did I feel forgotten.

In the pauses between visits,
in the texts between classes,
in the way you remembered what I loved,
you reminded me:
this wasn’t a love that fades with time.

It was the kind that stays,
gentle through hardship,
constant through the ache,
and quietly promising,
“I’m still here. I’m still yours.”