What would go wrong with my stubborn heart? I asked, trying to mend it after it had fallen apart. That was before I saw him, walking in, filling up the room from afar. Warm were his eyes in this cold winter night. His intoxicating fragrance those flowers… my favourite kind. He was messy, and so was his smile. And I wondered, was I even capable of holding him in my eyes? In blues of my thoughts His words cut apart “You look like thunderstorm,” he said, “but you feel like home instead.” And in that moment, I realised my heart hadn’t broken for nothing. For him, it had been making space