Traits We Both Share

 We share a lot of traits—me and my husband.

For example, both of us like the cookie part of OREO more than the cream. Both of us also like the rain, and the beach. And we listen to the same music.

And for another example, we can be pretty stubborn when we want to.

In his part, I will give you an example, back before we were even a thing, we were talking about the concept of soulmates. And, I know what you are thinking, that was stupid, that kind of thing wasn’t real, yada yada. I also thought so. And it probably doesn’t exist…

But Beeroo wouldn’t let me take back my belief and retreat in shame.

I still remember how my heart skipped a beat when he cut my shameful retreat and looked at me straight in the eyes. He looked more stubborn defending my belief than myself—like, that kind of look that just screams, I won’t let you talk shit about it? Actually, I think that was the very moment I fell in love with him, haha.

In my part, well, for context, my husband’s childhood was… pretty rough. And we were talking about it, and I was like, “I am so sorry you had to go through all of it” and he was like, “It had passed, everything is fine now” like he always does. But for some reason I felt indignant about it. Like I needed to defend my stance that I feel sorry about what happened. So I did exactly that.

I remembered the twitch in his eyebrows when he saw my stubbornness. And my husband and I rarely fought, okay? So that kind of expression was rare on his face. I remembered thinking, I can’t believe we are going to fight because I feel sad for his younger self. But I just—I just feel I should do this for some reason?

I told him, “You shouldn’t have to be that strong back then”, and I saw something crumbled in his eyes. It took him a moment to process the words. Like he was in pain after hearing my words that I almost regretted saying that.

But I don’t know where I got it, but I was also pretty stubborn about it. Like I wouldn’t let his words deter my determination. So I stood my stance, was ready if this argument turned into a bigger argument afterwards.

But what he did after was not getting mad at me or lashing out… he just cried. In my arms, for so long, in short broken sobs.

And the one in my arms back then wasn’t my husband, the man who had been so strong for so long, it was the boy beside the kitchen counter, who had been forced to hold back his tears for longer. The boy who finally allowed to cry his heart out.