At home, things are different. Because of my school schedule, I often come home late. The house is quiet by the time I arrive, and everyone has already finished eating. I usually find a plate of food covered and waiting for me on the table, but the silence always lingers. I can hear the faint sound of crickets outside, the ticking of the clock, and the hum of the refrigerator. I sit alone and eat, but it never feels like dinner. It feels like something missing, something I can never quite name. Maybe it is the warmth of laughter. Maybe it is the presence of someone who would ask how my day went. Over time, I got used to it. Eating alone became normal, but deep down, it still made me feel a little lonely.
Then he came into my life, and suddenly, eating no longer felt like a routine. Whenever we go out, even to the simplest food stalls or small restaurants, I find myself eating a lot more than usual. I used to think it was just the food, but I realized it was his company that made everything taste better. He always insists I try something new, and he laughs every time I take small bites and pretend to be shy about finishing my plate. He would always say that food should be enjoyed, not measured.
When I am with him, everything slows down. I do not rush to finish my meal or check the time. I simply enjoy being there. There is something about his presence that makes me feel safe. He talks about his day, asks about mine, and listens as if every little detail matters. Sometimes, he teases me for eating too much, saying I must really like the food. But deep down, I think I just like being there with him. Maybe that is why they say you gain weight when you are being treated right. It is not just about food but about feeling cared for, about finally having someone who makes even ordinary things feel special.
I remember one night vividly. It was raining, and we decided to eat at a small eatery near the university. The lights were dim, and the sound of raindrops hitting the tin roof filled the air. It was nothing fancy, but I could not help smiling the entire time. We talked about our dreams, our fears, and the little things that make us happy. The rain outside seemed to fade into the background. I remember thinking that if happiness had a taste, it would taste like that moment.
Even after the meal, we stayed for a while, just talking and laughing. It reminded me how good it feels to be with someone who makes you forget about time. That night, I realized how much I had missed this kind of connection. Growing up, I always thought love was supposed to be grand and dramatic. But sometimes, love is quiet. It is sitting across from someone while eating your favorite meal, knowing you are understood without needing to say much.
There are still nights when I come home late and eat alone. The silence is still there, but it feels a little different now. Maybe because I know that there are moments waiting for me outside those walls. Moments where I do not have to eat in silence, where laughter fills the air, and where the food tastes better just because he is there.
Sometimes I wonder how long this will last. Life changes so quickly, and people often drift apart. But I hope this part stays. I hope there will always be dinners where we laugh about silly things, lunches where we share our dreams, and breakfasts that start with quiet smiles. His presence has become something I want to hold on to, something that makes even the simplest things in life feel meaningful.
Every meal with him reminds me that love does not always need grand gestures. Sometimes, it is found in small, quiet moments over shared plates of food. It is in the way he looks at me when I talk, the way he laughs when I spill a drink, and the way he never rushes me when I eat slowly. It is in those moments that I feel truly cared for.
Life will keep changing, and I know not every meal will be spent together. But what I learned from him will always stay with me. I have learned to see every meal as a chance to feel thankful, to find comfort, and to share moments with people who matter. I no longer eat just to fill the hunger in my stomach but also to fill the quiet spaces in my heart.
So now, whenever I sit at a table with him, I take my time. I eat, I laugh, and I listen. Because I know these are the moments that build memories. These are the moments that make life feel whole. And even if the day comes when things change, I will always remember how his presence made every meal taste like home.
