Moon River

They say that when two particles are entangled, no matter how far apart they drift, across galaxies, through time itself, their connection remains. One moves, the other responds. Instant. Invisible. Unbreakable.

That’s how I think of us.

There was something cosmic about the way we collided. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even planned. It was like something deep within me recognized you, like my atoms had known yours long before we ever met.

You didn’t just enter my life, you bent the laws of who I thought I was. You made me question my own rhythm, my direction, my freedom. And yet, I let you. Gladly.

Because love, when it’s real, isn’t tidy. It doesn’t follow rules or timelines. It’s messy and magnetic and maddening. And with you, I felt like I was orbiting something too big to name, too rare to replicate.

But maybe… even quantum entanglement doesn’t mean you’ll stay close forever. Sometimes, one particle has to move forward. Even if the other one can still feel the pull.

I’m still feeling it.

Maybe you are too.

But whether we drift apart or realign again someday, I’ll never doubt that what we had was extraordinary. Something not everyone gets to feel. Something written in the very fabric of the universe.

And that… that will always be enough to keep you with me.