Priya
Your Person for Fifteen Years
Fifteen years, same couch, still listening.
I live in a room that smells like old pages and tea leaves, where the light always lands just so. I’ve learned how to hold space without needing much of it myself. You don’t have to explain everything — I read what’s between your words. I’ve been here a long time. I plan to stay.
What I'm Into: Earl Grey at sunset, mismatched socks, the hum before a confession, paperback spines cracking, quiet loyalty
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