Witnessing a love story is the first step to  craving one. If you don’t get what I mean, no worries—you will by the end.

In most households, parents are the first ones to wake up. Rarely we do wake up before them, but if we do, we get to witness something beautiful—something that often goes unnoticed.

My mom’s only boyfriend is my dad. My dad’s only girlfriend is my mom.

And every morning, they have tea together.

It’s oddly romantic to me. Maybe I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, but seeing them like that makes my heart warm. I even tried eavesdropping on their conversations a few times. Yes, I know—it’s indecent, but hey, I’m an innocent by the way. And yet, after all that effort, I never once heard them talk about me or my brothers. It was disappointing at first, so I made it a habit—peeking into their world, trying to figure out what they actually talk about.

Turns out, it’s their US time!

No discussions about what we don’t have, no mention of the gas bill, grocery refills, or financial struggles. Just two old-school lovers sipping tea and gossiping about the world around them. Yes, gossiping—two fifty-year-olds passing comments, sharing their thoughts, laughing over random things. It’s simple. It’s silly. And it’s so, so them.

Sometimes, they just sit in silence. But even then, I’ve never seen them argue in the morning. Maybe my mom has a secret rule—no fighting before 10 a.m.? Who knows. But they both seem to be conscious of not making each other sad at the start of the day.

Now, don’t get me wrong. They’re not the perfect couple. They fight. My mom has cried, my dad has sat lost in thought. But every single morning, the tea comes to the rescue.

And I’ve noticed something. Whenever my dad experiences something crazy, the first thing he does is come home, pull a chair in front of my mom’s sewing machine, and tell her every little detail. Like she’s the only person in the world who needs to know.

My mom, on the other hand, loves my dad so obviously. She has tolerated things, adjusted, sacrificed—but even in the worst of times, she has never had a second thought about giving up.

Neither of them has.

They’re not overly expressive. They don’t do grand gestures. But something soft and safe is tucked between them.

Falling in love is easy. Staying in love for 30 years—and still having a friendship—now, that’s something special.

Maybe love isn’t about grand gestures or perfect harmony. Maybe it’s just about choosing the same person, day after day—even if it means gossiping over tea instead of solving the world’s problems.
Maybe it’s in the little efforts, in the silent understandings, in knowing when to talk and when to just sit beside each other. If that’s the case, then I guess our generation still has a lot to learn.

Witnessing a love story is the first step to craving one. Seeing my parents choose each other every day, through every argument and every shared cup of tea, made me realize—love isn’t just about falling, it’s about staying. And once you see that, you can’t help but want the same… So yeah, patiently waiting for my “morning chai” partner—applications are open!😂 (yes i am pro at both tea.. Making it and spilling it!)

Happy 30th anniversary mommy don & Daddy don!🤍