Let history remember them as it always has.

And let me remember you as you are.

Not as a deity, not as a celestial phenomenon, not as some impossible ideal that exists only in the imagination of a hopeless romantic.

But as you.

A person made of ordinary hours and imperfect days, of quiet tenderness and little things you may never realize someone has noticed.

A person who does not need to conquer eternity to deserve a place within it.

Because if the universe has spent billions of years creating stars, shaping oceans, and giving life to a thousand different wonders, only for me to exist in the same lifetime as you, then perhaps I have already witnessed more than enough of its magic.

And if, someday, the stars should disappear and every ancient civilization should crumble into dust, I think I would still understand what beauty meant.

I would remember the way you smiled.

The sound of your voice.

The feeling of a moment spent beside you, when nothing extraordinary happened, and yet I wished the evening would last a little longer.

And in a universe that has forgotten the names of its gods, I think that would be enough.

For some things are not made extraordinary by being remembered throughout history.

Some things are extraordinary simply because, for one brief and impossible stretch of time, we were fortunate enough to know them.

And you, my love,

are one of those things the universe did not have to make eternal to make unforgettable.