Love Language

In Every Look, Every Touch, Every Word

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We say “I love you” all the time. Not just on birthdays or in good moods or when the timing feels right. We say it when the food is burning. We say it when one of us makes the same mistake again. We say it even when we’re upset. We say it on purpose. Often. Without overthinking.

It’s a promise. A choice we keep making every day. It’s what keeps us close. It’s the most valuable thing we have. But the real part of our love lives somewhere else, quietly, in the ordinary. Not just in the words, but in all the invisible things. Like how we read each other’s faces before either of us speaks. Like how, when things get heavy, our first instinct is to find each other. A hand, a shoulder, a touch. It’s simply how we get through things.

We’ve both had to learn how to rest, really rest. But together, we feel better. Happier. Stronger. We want to live it all. That’s what love feels like to us: Serenity.

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We were raised in different worlds, by strong women, and by life itself. We both learned how to show up, push through, and hold it all together. But with each other, we don’t have to prove anything. We don’t have to perform. We just get to be open, happy, and real.

And then, there’s the dancing. Everywhere. On the street. In the kitchen. At the market. We dance without caring who’s watching. One of us used to be shy (José, of course). Now we move together. He smiles and says, “Terremoto, go for it again.” We let each other be fire. We enjoy life as much as we can. We don’t hold each other back. We lift each other up.

There’s no competition, no fear. Just support. Just love.

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Every Sunday, we cook together. We always try to have Tunisian harissa and Spanish alegría on the table. It’s our tradition. We like it spicy. We like it crunchy. We like it warm. We cook like grandmas: everything in it. Memory. Love. Care. Presence. And we don’t just eat. We enjoy. We notice. We get creative (even too much sometimes). Those are our happy moments: Our love language ♥.

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In our living room sits an old vinyl player we found at a Berlin market. It’s huge, like a sideboard, and heavy with stories. We play records and dance like children. Not for show, not for anyone. Just because we love being together. Because we love the small, little things.

And it’s not just about us. Our love language is also how we love our people. How we care for our family and friends with honesty, kindness, and joy. That’s what makes us sure of the future we see together.

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Our life isn’t perfect, of course (though in our eyes, maybe it is). But we don’t need much. Just each other. The rest comes.

If we had to name our love language, we’d say: It’s waking up happy. Holding hands for no reason. Saying sorry, and meaning it. Letting life be full and messy. Seeing the beauty in the small things. Choosing each other every day, every moment, every second. Building something worth keeping. It’s simply the feeling of being home .

Jose Mari,I love you...