He Is Mine, I Am His

"Hey."

"Hey."

And just like that, our story began - two simple words sent across Facebook Messenger.

Well, maybe that’s not really the beginning. He’d probably tell it differently, with a grin and a funnier twist. He always does.

Truth is, I’ve known him since he was just a little boy. I’m ten years older. When I was a teenager, he was in kindergarten - my mom’s kindergarten class, to be exact. I went to high school with his older brother, Tito. So back then, that’s all he was to me: Tito’s little brother. Just a kid. Nothing more.

When I got in trouble at school - and I did - my punishment was going to work with my mom. That’s where I really noticed him. Tito’s little brother. Quiet, but mischievous.

Fast forward a couple of decades…

"Hey."

"Hey."

That’s how it started again. Two grown-ups, reconnected by life’s strange timing. We caught up. We swapped stories. We laughed more than we probably should’ve. And then…I noticed something else.

He was flirting.

Boldly. Playfully. Unapologetically.

I called him out.

“You’re too young for me,” I said. “You’re Tito’s little brother.”

“I’m a grown ass man,” he replied.

And, well - he wasn’t wrong.

He wasn’t that little boy anymore. Life had shaped him, stretched him, softened some edges and sharpened others. He had kids. Responsibilities. A whole world of his own.

And somehow - through all the years, and across that double “hey” - he found his way into mine.

Our love story wasn’t built on fireworks and fairytales. It was quieter than that. Slower. We were both a little bruised by life. We didn’t need grand gestures - we needed somewhere safe to land. To heal. That first season of “us” was more about mending than falling. But somewhere in the stitching, our hearts attached themselves to one another in a slow, quiet kind of way.

Eventually, love showed up - soft, certain, and steady. We posted the selfies. The “he makes me so happy” declarations. It was loud and joyful in the best kind of way.

And now... we’re in a new season. Something gentler. Not just love - but life. Not rushed. Not flashy. Built, not found.

He is mine, and I am his.

People ask when we’re getting married. Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t. We talk about it like it’s a given, but honestly, we’re good right where we are. There’s a rhythm to us - a peace we both feel in the space we’ve created.

He is my calm.

I am his comfort.

And that?

That’s everything.