It starts as a whisper, a feeling so subtle you almost dismiss it. A moment so ordinary—until it isn’t. You’re mid-laugh, mid-sentence, mid-thought, and something suddenly clicks into place. A quiet knowing settles into your bones. Not in an all-consuming way, but in how the earth meets the sky at the horizon—seamless, inevitable, right.

There’s a familiarity to them, a sense of home wrapped in human form. Conversations stretch into the early hours without effort, and silence is never uncomfortable. They see you—not just the curated version, not the attractive parts, but the raw, unfiltered you. Even so, they stay. Still, they understand. Still, they make room for every version of you, past, present, and unfolding.

You find freedom in them, not restriction. Freedom to be fully yourself without the creeping fear that your too-muchness will push them away. They remain unfazed by your depths and they don’t run from your shadows. They see you; not just the you that’s easy to love, but the raw, unpolished, beautifully complicated you. And somehow, instead of feeling exposed, you feel safe.

You knew before you knew. Before logic could bother you, before doubt could sink its teeth in, there was something in your bones; something ancient, something electric—that told you this person was different. 

It manifests in the moments that feel eerily like déjà vu, in the uncanny way they’d foresee your words, in the unshakable impression that you have known them longer than time would allow. The universe conspires, winking at you through spontaneous encounters, recurring numbers, and dreams that feel more like premonitions than subconscious wanderings. Coincidence? Hardly. The cosmos is not so careless.

One day, in the quiet of an ordinary moment, it hits you. All those whispered prayers, all those scribbled lists of qualities, all the half-baked wishes you tossed into the universe…. they weren’t in vain. You see them in this person, standing in front of you, loving you in ways you once thought were too much to ask for.

When it’s right, it’s not a puzzle you have to force together. It’s a knowing. A remembering. A love that doesn’t demand you to abandon yourself to keep it. And now, looking at them—at the way they move through the world, at the way they move you—you realize they were the answer all along. Not because they are everything, but because they are yours.

And that? That knowing? That peace? That’s how you’ll know.