I knew my man was loyal long before he ever said it.
I saw it every weekend when his team played. The way his eyes lit up when the match started. The way he proudly told complete strangers which team he supported. The way a loss could ruin his mood for hours, and a win could have him smiling all day. Soccer wasn't just a hobby to him—it was part of who he was.
At first, I used to tease him about it.
"One day I'll understand why you love football so much," I'd say.
He'd laugh and tell me, "You don't have to understand it. You just have to know I'm loyal."
And he was right.
Because the same loyalty he gave to his team, he gave to me.
When life asked us to make difficult choices, he didn't hesitate. He left behind a job he was comfortable in. He said goodbye to a home filled with memories. He walked away from friends he'd known for years. Then he moved to a new city with me—not because it was easy, but because he believed in my dreams as much as I did.
That's when I truly understood what loyalty looks like.
It's not the words people say when things are easy.
It's the sacrifices they make when things are hard.
People talk about soulmates as if they're found in fairy tales. But my soulmate wasn't riding a white horse. He was sitting on the couch yelling at a football match, wearing his team's jersey, and somehow still making me feel like I was the most important person in the world.
Maybe that's why our story works.
I'm a Gemini ♊, always dreaming, always chasing the next possibility.
He's a Libra ♎, steady, thoughtful, always finding balance when life gets messy.
Different enough to challenge each other. Similar enough to understand each other.
And every day, through all the changes, sacrifices, victories, and setbacks, he keeps choosing us.
That's how I know I'm loved.
Not because he says it.
But because he shows it.
My husband left eight months after my diagnosis.
The official reason was that we'd "grown into different people."
Which was a very poetic way of saying he preferred the version of me that didn't come with specialist appointments and prescription bottles.
At first I tried to be understanding.
I told myself maybe he was scared.
Maybe he was overwhelmed.
Maybe everyone has a breaking point.
Then I found out he had been complaining about me to his friends for months.
I posted a photo of a strange, glowing light in the night sky to a small group chat with my closest friends. Within five seconds, Ryan replied: "Wow, looks like a glitch in the streetlights!" A second later, Sarah replied: "Wow, looks like a glitch in the streetlights!" Then Dave. Then Jessica. By the time the sixth identical message popped up from a friend who I knew was fast asleep, my phone started typing a reply all on its own: "Wow, looks like a glitch in the streetlights!"
Before I could even think to drop the phone, a text notification flashed across the top of my screen from an unknown number. It read: "Keep typing. They’re watching the room." I looked up, and all five of my friends were standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway, staring at me in absolute, dead silence
.....
My older brother missed my college graduation because he said work was “too busy.”
A month later I found out he had taken that same weekend off for a fishing trip with his friends.
I didn’t even confront him about it. That’s the part people don’t understand.
Sometimes the hurt isn’t loud. It’s just this quiet realization that you would never treat them the way they treated you.
Now he keeps asking why I seem distant lately.
But once you stop expecting love from someone in the way you used to, something changes permanently.
Me: Women are afraid of men.
Him: That’s exaggerated.
Me: okay. If your wife texts you “I got home safe,” do you feel relieved?
Him: yeah.
Me: Why?
Him: Because you never know what could happen to women out there.
Me: exactly.