I woke up before dawn. The world was motionless, like a painting that time had not yet had the chance to mar. Silence held me in its embrace, and within it, I felt you – not through words or gestures, but through a presence that needed no proof.
I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching my cane. The lamplight fell onto the floor – it flickered, trying to mimic the rhythm of your heart. I did not call you, nor did I wake you. I simply marveled.
You were sleeping. The lines of your face were soft and calm, as if the world had forgotten all its anxieties just for your sake. This silence was my prayer. I imagined taking your hand again and, without a single word, showing you: every crack in me is merely a space through which your light now passes.
I imagined us stepping outside, where the universe had not yet decided whether to be morning or night. You would touch my shoulder just as you always do: not in jest, but with that tenderness which cannot be invented.
And I smiled. Without unnecessary words. Sometimes the deepest things live in the silence of two hearts that are no longer searching for one another, for they have already found each other.