Sorry, but...

Their love feels like stepping into a golden afternoon where time slows, and the world glows just a little softer. It’s the kind of love that wraps around you like a warm breeze, brushing your skin gently, never demanding, always tender. Every glance, every word exchanged between them feels like sunlight filtering through the leaves—soft, fleeting, and impossibly beautiful.

It’s as if they exist in a place untouched by chaos, a sanctuary carved out of moments where laughter is unhurried, and silence is never awkward. When they’re together, even the ordinary—like the sound of birds or the rustling of the wind—feels extraordinary, as if the world itself is conspiring to keep their love suspended in magic.

And it’s so pure that you ache watching it, because it reminds you of a kind of innocence you thought only existed in fleeting dreams. It’s love that doesn’t shout, doesn’t demand attention, but simply exists—soft and steady, like the sun always finds its way back to the earth.

To witness their love is to feel the sting of tears you can’t explain, because it’s just that beautiful. It’s the kind of love that makes you believe in something bigger, something brighter, something worth holding on to, even if only in memory.

In short, I want what relationship they have. (ಥ‿ಥ)