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You still save me the window seat, even when the view is nothing special, because you know I like watching the world pass by. You remember exactly how I take my tea—the right amount of milk, no sugar—and somehow that small cup always feels like being known. And Sunday mornings with you have become my favorite place in time. The quiet kitchen, the unhurried conversation, the way the day waits for us instead of asking us to hurry. I love who I am beside you: softer, steadier, more willing to notice the little things. Thank you for caring for me in ways no one else would see. For making room for my habits, my silences, my whole heart. If love is a life built from ordinary moments, then I want every seat, every cup, every slow Sunday with you. I love you, Ada.