Love isn’t proven by emotion. It’s proven by repair. Not the sweeping gesture. Not the dramatic moment. Not the performance. Real love is the undercurrent—what happens when it’s quiet, when no one is watching, when the “things” and the optics are stripped away. It’s the daily showing up. The consistent regard. The willingness to course-correct when you miss the mark.
Because the truth is: conflict doesn’t end love. Contempt does.
