She kept talking, her voice quiet. “I think real love is just…noticing things. Remembering things. Not the big things, birthdays, anniversaries, whatever. But the little things. The way someone folds their napkin before they eat, or how they always ask for extra pepperoni on their pizza. People get caught up in the idea that love is supposed to be overwhelming, that it’s supposed to sweep you off your feet, take your breath away, and make your heart race all the time. But I think the best love is the kind that feels like breathing. Easy. Natural. Like you don’t even have to think about it. Real love is when someone sees you. Really sees you. Not just the version of you that you show the world, but the you that exists when no one else is looking.” She shrugged slightly. “Someone who knows when you’re lying about being fine, and someone who doesn’t let you push them away when you’re hurting. Someone who knows how to make you laugh when you don’t want to. Someone who makes the bad days easier, just by being there. Love isn’t ‘I’d die without you.’ It’s the little things. It’s ‘I made your favorite pasta because I know you had a long day.’ It’s ‘I saw this book and thought of you.’”

I was going to die.

I was going to die in this bathtub.

I exhaled slowly and said, “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“I think most people mistake attraction for love. Attraction is like…a sugar rush. It’s fast, intense, and it makes your heart race, but it doesn’t last. It’s just your brain reacting to something exciting, right? People want someone to fix them, to make their life better, to fill in all the empty spaces. But when that person can’t do it, they start looking for someone else.” She let out a sigh, as if this conversation physically pained her. “Love is being seen. Love is when someone could ruin you, but you trust them not to. Love is patience. It’s choosing someone over and over again, even when it’s not convenient. Even when it’s hard.”

She was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, unaware of the way her words were dismantling me piece by piece.

“What about you?” she asked.

I blinked. “What about me?”

She stared at me for a long time, her eyes searching mine as if she were looking for something she wasn’t sure she wanted to find. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“I believe in math.”

She rolled her eyes, kicking at me under the water. “Shut up.”

I caught her ankle, trapping it in my grip and settling her foot against my thigh.  “I don’t know, Beverly.”

“Come on. If anyone had a theory on this, it’d be you.”

I raised an amused brow. “A theory?”