Love isn’t measured in convenience—it’s in the quiet sacrifices, the sleepless nights, the way you carry each other’s weight without keeping score. It’s picking them up at 3 AM, holding their hand through storms, making soup when they’re sick. Some days, you give more; some days, they do. But love isn’t a transaction—it’s devotion, messy and real. It’s knowing that even in the uneven moments, you’d still choose them, over and over, without hesitation.