Asha’s mornings began before the sun was fully awake. She moved through her routine with the sharp precision of someone who didn’t just work; she thrived in responsibility. Her heartbeat synced with urgency. Her mind processed tasks like a constantly refreshing dashboard. The day didn’t wait for her; she didn’t expect it to.
Rohan’s mornings were the opposite. He woke slowly, with the softness of someone who believed mornings were meant to be shared. His first instinct wasn’t to check his phone for calls or messages -- it was to reach for her. When his hand met only the cold indentation of the pillow she’d vacated, something tugged inside him. A wanting. A little ache. Quiet but real.
By the time Asha reached halfway down the street, his messages would start.. not clingy in a childish way, but tender in a way that showed how deeply he loved her.
She’d respond with warmth wrapped in urgency. He felt the warmth; he also felt the urgency.
And that’s where the subtle friction lived - where his emotional morning collided with her operational morning.
She walked fast because her brain was sprinting.
He messaged often because his heart was reaching.
She wanted to anchor herself into the workday.
He wanted to hold onto the last scraps of morning softness.
They understood each other. Truly. But understanding doesn’t always translate to perfect moments.
Some mornings, she sensed the faint sting behind his playful texts. The way he lingered a little too long in “I miss you.” The way his heart felt heavier without her next to him. And she softened, because she knew he wasn’t asking for the impossible... he was just asking for her.
But some mornings, his longing accidentally brushed up against her intensity. Not in a hurtful way, just in that way where two hearts with different rhythms create tiny ripples of tension. She would feel momentarily pulled....between wanting to soothe him and needing to ground herself for the day.
And Rohan..... he felt it too.
He knew she wasn’t choosing work over him. She was choosing the version of herself that held her world together. The version he respected deeply. Still, on some mornings, his chest felt a little hollow. He wanted five minutes. She barely had thirty seconds. It wasn’t disappointment... it was longing left mid-sentence.
Sometimes they’d both end up slightly off balance.
A short reply from her while she rushed into a meeting.
A quiet pause from him as he tried to swallow his neediness.
A misunderstanding born not out of anger, but timing.
A pull-and-push neither intended, but both felt.
He’d think, Maybe I bothered her.
She’d think, I hope he knows it’s not him.
And yet, no matter how the morning twisted, they always found their way back.
During lunch, she’d check her phone and feel that familiar warmth settle in her chest-guilt mixed with tenderness. She’d send him something soft, something only he got to hear in her voice.
He’d listen, his heart unclenching like it always did. Because he knew her. Knew the cracks in her armor, the fire in her spirit, the stubbornness in her love. He knew she wasn’t pushing him away. She was simply moving too fast for him to catch up in the mornings.
And later, when she finally came home...hair messy from the day, shoulders tense with everything she carried, he’d wrap himself around her without a word. No questions. No accusations. Just warmth.
She would melt into him like she always did, the sharpness of her day dissolving into the softness of his presence. He grounded her. She gave him purpose. They balanced in all the places where the morning had failed them.
This was their rhythm.
Not perfect, not textbook... but honest.
Two people built completely differently.
Two hearts tuned to different frequencies.
Two lives colliding in messy, beautiful ways creating ripples and waves...
And still.... Still... they chose each other every single time.
Some people start their morning with coffee.
Asha had a clingy, loving chaos that whispered, “come back and cuddle.”
And honestly?
She wouldn’t trade it.
Nor would he.
Because somewhere between her urgency and his softness, they created a love that wasn’t always easy, but always, always, worth returning to.
Rohan’s mornings were the opposite. He woke slowly, with the softness of someone who believed mornings were meant to be shared. His first instinct wasn’t to check his phone for calls or messages -- it was to reach for her. When his hand met only the cold indentation of the pillow she’d vacated, something tugged inside him. A wanting. A little ache. Quiet but real.
By the time Asha reached halfway down the street, his messages would start.. not clingy in a childish way, but tender in a way that showed how deeply he loved her.
She’d respond with warmth wrapped in urgency. He felt the warmth; he also felt the urgency.
And that’s where the subtle friction lived - where his emotional morning collided with her operational morning.
She walked fast because her brain was sprinting.
He messaged often because his heart was reaching.
She wanted to anchor herself into the workday.
He wanted to hold onto the last scraps of morning softness.
They understood each other. Truly. But understanding doesn’t always translate to perfect moments.
Some mornings, she sensed the faint sting behind his playful texts. The way he lingered a little too long in “I miss you.” The way his heart felt heavier without her next to him. And she softened, because she knew he wasn’t asking for the impossible... he was just asking for her.
But some mornings, his longing accidentally brushed up against her intensity. Not in a hurtful way, just in that way where two hearts with different rhythms create tiny ripples of tension. She would feel momentarily pulled....between wanting to soothe him and needing to ground herself for the day.
And Rohan..... he felt it too.
He knew she wasn’t choosing work over him. She was choosing the version of herself that held her world together. The version he respected deeply. Still, on some mornings, his chest felt a little hollow. He wanted five minutes. She barely had thirty seconds. It wasn’t disappointment... it was longing left mid-sentence.
Sometimes they’d both end up slightly off balance.
A short reply from her while she rushed into a meeting.
A quiet pause from him as he tried to swallow his neediness.
A misunderstanding born not out of anger, but timing.
A pull-and-push neither intended, but both felt.
He’d think, Maybe I bothered her.
She’d think, I hope he knows it’s not him.
And yet, no matter how the morning twisted, they always found their way back.
During lunch, she’d check her phone and feel that familiar warmth settle in her chest-guilt mixed with tenderness. She’d send him something soft, something only he got to hear in her voice.
He’d listen, his heart unclenching like it always did. Because he knew her. Knew the cracks in her armor, the fire in her spirit, the stubbornness in her love. He knew she wasn’t pushing him away. She was simply moving too fast for him to catch up in the mornings.
And later, when she finally came home...hair messy from the day, shoulders tense with everything she carried, he’d wrap himself around her without a word. No questions. No accusations. Just warmth.
She would melt into him like she always did, the sharpness of her day dissolving into the softness of his presence. He grounded her. She gave him purpose. They balanced in all the places where the morning had failed them.
This was their rhythm.
Not perfect, not textbook... but honest.
Two people built completely differently.
Two hearts tuned to different frequencies.
Two lives colliding in messy, beautiful ways creating ripples and waves...
And still.... Still... they chose each other every single time.
Some people start their morning with coffee.
Asha had a clingy, loving chaos that whispered, “come back and cuddle.”
And honestly?
She wouldn’t trade it.
Nor would he.
Because somewhere between her urgency and his softness, they created a love that wasn’t always easy, but always, always, worth returning to.
And I guess, you forgot, you aint allowed to keep so much long gap in your 2 articles, write up. I read one comment , starting of new series? Hope that will open your eye.
