The house is quieter now, softer. The kids have long since moved out, started their own lives, but the love we built together still fills every corner. Sometimes I catch myself sitting in the living room, staring at the old, well-worn couch where we used to collapse after a long day of raising them, working, laughing. Now, it's just Luigi and meâour quiet, steady rhythm.
He's always been there. The most constant thing in my life. I glance across the room, watching him in his favorite chair by the window. The sun filters in through the blinds, casting golden rays across his silvering hair. His glasses sit low on his nose as he reads the newspaper, occasionally muttering something under his breath that I can never quite catch. I love the way he sounds when he's lost in his thoughts, how his voice becomes a soft murmur like he's speaking only to himselfâand to me.
"Luigi," I call out softly.
He looks up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, my love?"
I walk over to him, my feet slower these days, but I still have that same lightness in my step when I'm heading toward him. He sets the paper down and takes my hand when I reach him, the same warmth in his touch that's been there since we were young.
"I was thinking..." I start, but I trail off, unsure of how to put into words the feeling that's been swelling in me lately. The contentment. The deep, quiet joy that comes with knowing that, no matter what happens, we've made it here. Together.
He raises an eyebrow, always so patient with me, as if giving me time to find my words.
"Do you ever think about how far we've come?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "About everything we've done?"
He nods slowly, his gaze softening. "I think about it every day."
I sit down beside him, curling up against him, just like I used to when we were young. His arm wraps around me instinctively, and I feel the weight of his love settle over me, just like it always has. His hand finds mine, the two of us intertwined as if we've never let go, even when life tried to pull us in different directions.
"You remember when we first moved into this house?" I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"Yeah, I do," he replies, a faraway look in his eyes. "It wasn't much, but we made it ours. Just like we've made everything else ours."
"Made it ours," I echo, nodding. "I like the sound of that."
The quiet settles between us again, comfortable, like the years we've spent together. He leans his head against mine, and I feel that familiar flutter in my chest, the one that never quite goes away no matter how many years pass.
"You've always made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world," I say softly, my voice barely more than a breath.
Luigi chuckles, though it's a soft, gentle sound. "I think I've always been the lucky one," he replies, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You've been my everything, Y/N. And you still are."
I close my eyes, resting against him, letting the weight of his words wash over me. This is how it's always been with usâno grand gestures, just a lifetime of quiet moments shared between two people who've learned the beauty of simply being there for each other.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.