Two months. Sixty days of memories that somehow feel much bigger than time should allow. I still remember the beginning— the slightly awkward conversations, the pauses filled with nervous smiles, the way we were both trying to know each other slowly without saying too much too fast. And now look at us. Now your name sits naturally in the middle of my day. You’ve become the first person I want to tell things to— the funny little moments, the bad moods, the random thoughts at 2 a.m., the songs that suddenly remind me of you for no reason at all. Somewhere in these two months, you stopped feeling like someone “new.” You became comfort. The kind that sneaks up quietly. Like knowing your text will make me smile before I even open it. Like hearing your voice and feeling my whole day soften a little. Like missing you immediately after saying goodbye, even if it was only for a few hours. I think my favorite part has been the little things. The way we remember details about each other. The way conversations never really feel forced. The way silence feels peaceful instead of empty. The way you somehow make ordinary moments feel important enough to keep forever. Two months may not sound like much to people outside of us. But they don’t see how many emotions can fit into sixty days. The late-night talks. The laughing until breathing hurts. The tiny misunderstandings we fixed gently. The soft reassurance in your words. The excitement of seeing your notification appear. The comfort of knowing there’s someone out there thinking about me too. And maybe that’s what this is— not just a passing feeling, not just temporary excitement, but something steady slowly growing roots inside my heart. Because when I think about these two months, I don’t just think about time passing. I think about how life has felt warmer lately. How certain songs hit differently now. How even crowded places feel less lonely. How happiness has started arriving in smaller, softer ways— usually with your name attached to it. Two months, and somehow you already feel like a chapter I never want to finish.