I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at an old photograph. There I was, years ago, draped in something I once thought was seductive, my expression caught between doubt and longing. I had been trying to reignite a fire that felt like it had long since burned out.

He walked in, pausing when he saw me. "That was years ago," he murmured, sitting beside me.

"I know." I traced the edges of the photo. “I remember how I felt that night. I wanted to want you. But I couldn't.”

His fingers brushed against mine. “I knew.”

Our love had been wild once—untamed and all-consuming. But over the years, passion had slowly given way to routine, to comfort, to habit. We had weathered storms, fought battles that left scars, but we had always found our way back to each other. Only, somewhere along the way, the fire had cooled.

"Do you ever think about it?" I asked.

“What?”

“If we had… ended it. Started over with someone else.”

He let out a slow breath. “No.”

I turned to him, surprised. “Never?”

"Never." His gaze was steady. “I wanted you. Even when we were angry. Even when we barely spoke. Even when you couldn’t want me back.”

A lump formed in my throat. "I wanted that feeling again," I admitted. “But not with someone new. Just… with you.”

He smiled, the kind that reached his eyes. “So what changed?”

I closed my eyes, remembering the years that followed. The slow, deliberate effort to rekindle what we thought was lost. The late-night conversations, the stolen glances, the moments when we chose each other—over and over again.

"You," I whispered. “You never stopped choosing me.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.

"You once told me love is a fire," I said. “That it changes, shifts. Sometimes it burns bright, and sometimes it’s just embers, but it never really dies unless we let it.”

He nodded. “And we didn’t let it.”

I turned toward him, my hand finding his. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“When the time comes, when I’m old and tired, when my body is ready to rest, just hold my hand.”

He cupped my face, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Forever.”

And I knew, without a doubt, that true love never fades. It only changes how we express it