Calebswifu

he knows it’s not easy for you to fall asleep. he’s woken up to you wide awake at 3am, scrolling on your phone that’s way too close to your face. he’s tried every remedy out there—warm milk before bed, tea before bed, no gadgets before bed, reading before bed—yet not a single one has been effective. it always ends with you staying up until it’s time for him to wake up.

only one thing ever worked, though. kissing you until you pass out.

as soon as you finish your nighttime routine, zayne is already ushering you to his lap. he sets his book down on the bedside table, slips his glasses off, and lets his hands run up and down your sides in slow, soothing motions. in the summer, he even uses his evol, a gentle coolness settling over your skin just enough to make you relax.

once you’re on top of him, it starts with a kiss to your cheek. then another along your jaw, before he drags his lips down your neck. after that, he comes back up to meet your mouth, slotting his lips with yours. he doesn’t rush it. doesn’t deepen it more than necessary. just steady, unhurried kisses meant to calm your breathing rather than steal it away.

without breaking contact, he eases you down onto the bed, movements careful and practiced. one hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin while the other keeps you close. his kisses grow slower, softer, lingering just a second longer each time.

he murmurs quietly inbetween—nothing dramatic, just low reassurances, reminders that he’s here, you’re safe, that you don’t have to think about anything else. eventually, he turns the two of you onto your sides, pulling you flush against his chest.

his hand slips under your sleep shirt, meticulous fingertips tracing circles along your back. his nails scratch lightly, rhythmically, exactly the way he knows you like. your breathing eventually evens out without you realizing it, body melting into his.

there’s a small smile on his lips when he feels you go slack against him.

and as your eyes finally flutter closed, zayne doesn’t stop right away. he presses one last kiss to your lips, thumb brushing beneath your eye as if to make sure you’re really asleep. only then does he still, arm tightening around you just slightly.

you fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing and the cool comfort of his presence—while zayne stays awake a little longer, making sure you don’t wake again.

then one night, the front door unlocks. the key twists in the lock, and it's him. your sweet caleb. scarred, bleeding, exhausted, but it's him.

you cling to him, weeping, drinking in his appearance like you've never seen him before. there's a new scar along his lip, a slit in his eyebrow, a stitch along the side of his head that's too long to be called an innocent wound. but you're sweet. you're trusting. you've missed your caleb, and you feed him dinner and you kiss him dizzy until he falls asleep underneath you, your fingers intertwined in his.

for a few days, everything seems perfect. like it used to. he kisses you like he's never done it before. he reaches for your hand everywhere you go.

but then things don't start to add up.

he starts to call you baby instead of pipsqueak. he asks about mutual friends you haven't seen in years. he reaches for things in the apartment that don't exist- his supposedly favorite cup that's "crimson", though you know it's blue. he talks about how beautiful you look in pictures you never took. he gets frantic looking for his best shirt, and when you find it for him, he insists that isn't the one, no, there was another one, another one just like that....

at first you think he's just disoriented.

but then he says your name, and it's like he's trying to pronounce it differently, in vowels and consonants that are different from the ones in your name, in a different language, a different world. when you ask him if he's okay, he freezes.

"i'm here now."

that's all he says.

but you see the way his eyes dart around when he says it. the way he flinches, as if his head starts to throb. you see the way his fingers curl and he excuses himself.

you know the love of your life.

you know that this man is not him.

it’s hard to tell who’s the clingier one 🤭

My name is Abdulmajid.

I got married one month before the war. Those were beautiful days — full of hope, love, and simple dreams. I dreamed of a small home, a quiet family, and a baby girl I could hold without fear.

But the war came… Suddenly. Brutally.

My mother was killed. My brother was killed. Children in my family were taken by the bombs. My home was destroyed. And my work stopped completely.

Then… in the middle of this nightmare, my baby girl was born. A tiny soul, innocent, unaware of the war. She cries from hunger, from cold, from the sounds of bombs shaking what’s left of our walls.

Today, I’m a father with almost nothing… Fighting every day to find flour, milk, or even a small meal to feed my child.

Prices are sky-high — a single 25kg bag of flour can cost $800. There is no work. No income. No safety. No stability.

I write this from under siege, hoping my heart will reach yours.

Even $1 can make a difference. It can feed a child, buy milk, or bring a moment of peace. Be the heart that reaches Gaza. Be the hand that saves.

📌 Please share this post. Let our voices be heard — not buried under rubble.