Yours, Mine, Ours — by Mololuwa Olabode

Dear gentle singles, married people have refused to allow us to breathe!

Everywhere you look, it’s wedding bells and love stories. This weekend’s no different. So, you might want to stock up on Eba or find a good distraction because love stories are everywhere, making you whisper to yourself, “God when?”

We’ve all been there, lost in our dreamy moments, imagining our perfect person. No matter who you are or what your temperament is, one thing is clear: we all crave connection, that special someone who gets us.

So, I have tried to birth life into that “person “of your dreams.

Let me know if I nailed it (Winks).

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Rain lashes against the windowpane, a frantic rhythm mirroring the chaos in my soul. The day was a relentless assault – a failed presentation, a car repair bill that could cripple us, and an argument with a colleague that left me raw and exposed. Everywhere I turn, there are cracks in the facade I hold up for the world.

But tonight, the scent of your cologne lingers in the air, a whisper of comfort amidst the tempest. It draws me towards our bedroom, a sanctuary built with laughter, shared dreams, and love.

You’re reading, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The sight of you ignites a spark within me, a yearning that transcends the troubles of the day.  The way the light catches the planes of your face, the furrow of your brow as you concentrate. You are breathtaking!

I crawl onto the bed beside you, my body finding its familiar place against yours, I breathe in your familiar scent. You kiss my forehead before I even speak, your arms cradling me. The touch is electric, a silent promise that washes away the day’s anxieties.

Words seem superfluous. Instead, I let my gaze drift over you, memorizing the way the muscles in your arm flex as you attempt to drop the book.

With a sigh, you close the book and turn to me. Your eyes, usually so full of life, hold a tenderness that makes my breath catch. “Rough day?” You murmur, your voice a warm caress.

The dam breaks. The weight of the day spills out in a torrent of whispered confessions – the sting of failure, the gnawing fear of uncertainty. Tears well up, blurring your face for a moment, but your hand reaches up to gently wipe them away.

“You’re strong, love,” you say, your voice a soothing balm. “Stronger than you know.” The sincerity in your eye’s cuts through my self-doubt. In that moment, I see myself reflected, not as the world perceives me, but as you see me – capable, worthy, and utterly loved.

The weight starts to lift. You pull me closer, your touch a silent promise. Slowly, deliberately, the space between us closes. A kiss, soft at first, then deepening with a desperation born of shared vulnerability and unspoken desire.

We undress with a practiced ease that speaks of years spent building a world of our own. Your touch ignites a fire within me, chasing away the chill of the day. Every caress is a whispered prayer of gratitude for the haven we’ve built together.

The world outside fades away. There’s only the symphony of our breaths, the press of your body against mine, and the sweet release that washes over us in a shared wave of ecstasy.

Afterwards, we lay tangled together, the rain a muted drumming against the window.

A contented sigh escapes your lips, and I mirror it, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over me.

We are not just lovers, but a testament to a love divinely orchestrated. In the quiet intimacy of this moment, as I drift off to sleep, your heartbeat a lullaby against my ear, I am reminded that even when the world throws its worst at us, our marriage is a sanctuary, a fortress built on faith and love.

And in your arms, I find not just solace, but a fierce hope for whatever tomorrow may bring.