Today, I woke up feeling a bit heavy, like the world outside was wrapped in a blanket of gray. Days like this only amplify my longing for you, making every moment feel a little emptier. The air-conditioning was blasting at full power, and, as usual, I was all alone, cocooned in my thoughts. I fished my laptop from its spot under the TV and noticed you weren’t online yet—probably off enjoying some time with my sister, sharing laughs.

I made my way downstairs, the cold marble steps beneath me, to whip up a simple lunch: just some bread slathered with artichoke and spinach spread. Not exactly a culinary masterpiece, but it was something. The house felt eerily quiet, just me and the sound of my own thoughts. Then, my phone buzzed, cutting through the silence—it was you! I rushed back to my room, only to realize I’d forgotten to grab a glass of milk. But there you were on my screen, your face glowing even through the grainy camera, a little reminder of the warmth I was missing. But you were still thousands of miles away, a thought that stung a bit.

If you were here, I would be eagerly waiting for you to come home from work. I’d hear Jedi barking like a furry alarm clock, giving away your approach even from a distance. I could already picture myself hiding behind the door, ready to spring a surprise on you. When you finally walked in, I’d pull you into a hug so tight that it might just squeeze out all the stress of your day. You’d be worn out from a long day with your students, your skin still sticky from the relentless Manila heat, but your smile would light up the room, a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. We’d share a tender kiss, and you’d hand me something small and meaningful—maybe a tag with our names, new batteries for the razor we share, laundry detergent, or even a quirky snack you thought I’d like—little tokens that carry so much weight in our world.

While you showered, the sound of water cascading would fill the air of our tiny apartment, and I’d linger in the bedroom, rifling through the plastic closet to pick out something nice for us to wear. You’d suggest a shirt, and I’d chuckle, opting for something a bit fancier, wanting to remind you that tonight is special. We’d help each other get ready, adjusting collars and smoothing out wrinkles, because let’s face it, our fashion sense is borderline tragic without each other’s guidance. You’d lock the doors with that practiced ease of yours while I called for a taxi, and, of course, you’d always double-check the locks. You were always more domesticated.

In the taxi, we’d sit close, our legs brushing against each other, hands intertwined like we were afraid to let go. The city lights would flicker by, casting a warm glow inside the car, and we’d hum along to whatever was playing, creating our own little bubble amidst the chaos of the city outside.

You’d order something healthy—perhaps a beautifully grilled fish or a vibrant vegetable dish—while I’d dive into something indulgent, like a juicy steak or a plate of pasta dripping with sauce. You’d share stories about your day, the triumphs and tribulations of your students spilling from your lips, and I’d weave in some lighthearted anecdotes to ease your stress. I’d excitedly rave about the latest show I’m binge-watching, trying to convince you to join my obsession, but I know you’d likely prefer to lose yourself in music instead. I’d signal the waiter for a drink—maybe a glass of red wine to warm us up and loosen the edges of the day.

After dinner, we’d playfully bicker over our next adventure. I’d pull up movie listings on my phone. “Let’s steer clear of ‘The Hottie and the Nottie.’ I hear ‘Michael Clayton’ is actually worth our time.” “Feeling adventurous? We could slay some zombies again in The House of the Dead 4.” “Or how about a karaoke showdown? Because, let’s face it, who doesn’t love belting out terrible renditions of our favorite songs?” With you, the options are always endless, and every choice feels like an adventure waiting to happen.

When we finally got home, I’d tidy up the bed, making it a cozy nest for us. I’d shower you with kisses until we both got swept away in the moment, laughter and warmth filling the air. We’d talk about everything and nothing until our eyelids grew heavy, then settle into each other’s arms—big spoon, little spoon, like we were made to fit together. As I drifted off, I’d think, “Tomorrow, we can do this all over again,” and fall asleep with a smile, knowing that you’re my favorite part of every day.

I miss you, my Valentine. This distance is a cruel twist of fate, but I know we’ll weather it together. April can’t come soon enough.