Harshada,

Two months ago you picked me up at the gate with a pooja thali threat and a joke about my organs. Two months later, I think about you right before I wake up, right before I sleep, and all the time in between.

I don't have the words you do. You're the one who writes long messages, drafts status updates at 11 PM, handles Puja for three hours a night, and somehow still always knows exactly what to say and do when I'm spiralling. Me, I've just got this. You changed my life. You made me braver, softer, more grown up in the ways that matter and less grown up in the ways that don't.

This is my small attempt at doing what you do so naturally. I went through our messages and pulled out some of the moments. The night you waited at the gate. The first concealer. The Netlify site you made for me in an evening, which was the first time I actually felt loved for the effort someone put in. Mai Mai. The night I finally asked you to be my girlfriend, and you said yes after threatening to take 5 to 7 business days. The 26 sticky notes you left all over my room before you flew to Pune.

You once wrote "I am not dating you with the intention of you becoming my ex boyfriend." I read that line a couple of times a week, my love. Sometimes more. For every we'll be just fine you've sent me, I'm sending one back.

Happy two months, Harshada. You're my home too.

yours,
Varun