"Nugget," she whispers, her voice soft and sleepy, like she's balancing on the edge of a dream.
"Yes, Buggy?" I reply, trying to stifle a laugh because the way she says it is always just a little too serious, and it kills me every time.
She pauses dramatically, and I can hear the faint rustle of her sheets through the phone. "Did you know..." she starts, and then she giggles. "I forgot what I was going to say."
It's 3 a.m., and we're both delirious with exhaustion, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be. These are the moments that make everything—every mile, every late-night ache for her—worth it.
"You're the funniest person I know," she says out of nowhere, and it feels like she's handing me the whole world in a single sentence.
"Obviously," I reply, pretending to be smug. "Have you seen my material? Top-tier."
She laughs so hard she snorts, and I lose it. "You're so embarrassing," I tease, even though I'd do anything to hear that sound a million times more.
We have this way of making each other laugh until our stomachs hurt, cracking up over things no one else would ever understand. Like the time we spent a solid hour arguing over whether a hot dog is a sandwich or not (it's not), or the night we made up ridiculous life plans, like starting a farm where we raise chickens named after celebrities.
To anyone else, these moments might seem small, but to us, they're everything.
Sometimes, the conversations get deeper. There's something about the stillness of the night that makes it easier to say the things you keep buried during the day.
"Do you ever think about the future?" I ask one night, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Only all the time," she replies. "And you're always in it."
It's not a grand declaration, but it doesn't need to be. It's her way of telling me I'm her person, that she's building a life in her mind with me in the center of it.
"I love you, Nugget," she says after a while, her voice soft but sure.
"I love you too, Buggy," I reply, and it feels like the easiest thing I've ever said.
The Magic of Us
There's a kind of magic in what we have—a magic that lives in the way we turn ordinary moments into extraordinary memories. It's in the late-night calls that stretch into the early hours of the morning, in the playful teasing and the way she makes me feel like I'm the funniest, most important person on the planet.
Loving her isn't just something I do—it's something I am. It's in every breath, every laugh, every stolen moment across the miles.
When I think about us, I think about those nights, the ones where we stay up too late and forget the rest of the world exists. The ones where the sun rises, and we're still talking, still laughing, still being us.
I wouldn't trade a single sleepless night for all the rest in the world. Because with her, between midnight and morning, I've found something that feels like forever.
YOU ARE READING
Two hearts on one journey 🫂🌎
Romance"Two Hearts, One Journey" is a personal, emotional story told from my perspective, exploring the highs and lows of my long-distance relationship. This book isn't a regular back-and-forth narrative-it's a love letter, raw and intimate, reflecting my...
