Darling Nurhara, my darling,
I began writing this letter when I was in Jeddah. I got stuck, so I left it untouched. Today is 3rd November 2025. Time flies swiftly; the year is drawing to an end. How’s your work, darling? Have you eaten? I’m sitting on the balcony, uitwaaien — letting the breeze clear my thoughts as I look up at the dark sky and gaze at the sea. Tonight, the air is a soft zephyr. I tried to continue reading, but my focus keeps slipping away. The novel was recommended by a bookstore, yet I find it hard to understand its plot. The kids are already asleep. They’ve been good and well-behaved. Everything went smoothly today. I’m drinking cinnamon tea and remembering the warmth of your lips on the same spot of the cup as mine. Sometimes we each have our own cup, yet you always love to steal the last tittynope of my drink.
I promise to do the medical check-up when I’m ready. Please don’t be mad at me. You’ve always understood me better than anyone else. After our heated argument last night over the phone, I found myself reflecting on what love really is and what its true value means. I don’t know much about love; I tend to see it from a nostalgic perspective. You see love as something dynamic—that when separation happens, love drifts away with the wind. I wish I could be like you; easy to forget, easy to move on. Anagapesis—that word suits you perfectly. But I am not that kind of man. If living with me feels like chaos, I’m sorry, love. I want to change, to obliterate the parts of me that keep breaking what we build, but I can’t seem to find the right path. Halfway through, I always end up back at the starting line — back to the square.
They say love requires effort from both partners. Effort matters, yes, but it isn’t the most crucial part of loving someone. The most important part is how we love. Gary Chapman, in The Five Love Languages, writes that to truly love someone, we must love them in their language, not ours. A writer once asked, “Do we love our partner the way they want to be loved? Do our love languages align? Or do we love them the way we want to love — selfishly — without learning their language? Effort that doesn’t match our partner’s love language is wasted. It doesn’t create a spark; it only ends up hurting their feelings.” Learning to understand our partner isn’t easy. It requires tolerance, patience, and the flexibility to discover new ways of expressing love — the true beginning of fiat lux.
I’m terrified to ask you this, but in nurturing true reciprocity, communication is essential — it saves many relationships. We need to talk openly and repeatedly about our love language, how we want to be loved, and what we expect. Do I love you the way you want to be loved? Do I meet your expectations? Does my love language fit perfectly with yours? Women are often taught not to teach men how to love them — that if they must, they’re with the wrong man. But I believe love grows through learning. You can’t expect someone to know you well if you don’t talk to them about your needs, desires, dreams, insecurities, and vulnerabilities. Assumptions don’t lead us anywhere — they only kill us slowly, leaving us confuzzled and lost in ambiguity. With each honest conversation, we move ad meliora.
I still remember when you told me your mother advised you not to be angry with me when I make mistakes because she knew I came from an orphanage. Since that day, I saw her differently. She became, in my eyes, a figure of gentleness and wisdom. I never had a mother when I was raised; a mother and a caretaker are not the same. So, I don’t truly know what that love feels like. But when I met your mother, something inside me softened. An imam once said, “If you want to marry someone, look at their mother — for she is their reflection.” Your mother is kind, patient, and full of grace — and so are you. I see how she treats your father, and I see the same devotion, fealty, and tenderness in you. I have it all — what more could I ask for?
A woman reflects the home she was raised in. If she grows up with a good father, she trusts men, believes in partnership, and feels secure. But if her home lacked that presence, she struggles to trust — not because she is weak, but because she learned early that security could be fragile. If I have failed to love you the way you wish to be loved, then teach me. You once said you love flowers, so I bought them for you. You never made love complicated — your heart is simple and sincere. I may not be a romantic man by nature, but I can learn. There’s nothing wrong with learning to love better. In The Art of Loving, Erich Fromm writes that love is not a feeling but a skill — a discipline requiring knowledge, effort, and practice. I can learn and relearn, ergo dum me diligis — but il faut laisser du temps au temps.
Love, to me, is accepting one another’s truest selves. As Leo Tolstoy said, "When you love someone, you love the person as they are, not as you’d like them to be." Yet love also means growing together — floreamus una. We are teammates; there is no you or I, only we. I believe that when we love our partner the way they wish to be loved, love blossoms. And to love you rightly, I ask that you correct me whenever I falter or assume wrongly. I wish I could make things easier for you. I wish I could heal and leave the past where it belongs. I, too, long to move on, to stop being hurt. I want to live my life fully, yet my past keeps haunting me, chasing me down. I struggle each time the monster returns to torment my thoughts. I truly want to leave it all behind. I really do but I don’t know how. Please forgive me, love.
_
If equal affection cannot be,
let the more loving one be me.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
and feel its total dark sublime,
though this might take me a little time.
The More Loving One – W. H. Auden
Love and only love,
Abang
November 9, 2025
Male, Maldives