Waiting for your love to feel like the first time is like standing at the edge of a familiar sunrise, knowing you’ve seen dawn before, yet believing with your whole heart that this one will be different. It’s a quiet kind of hope—patient, steady, and brave—where time stretches not as a burden, but as a promise. You remember how it once felt: the rush in your chest, the way ordinary moments glowed, how a single smile could rearrange your entire world. Waiting for that feeling again doesn’t mean chasing the past; it means trusting that love can be reborn, just as intense, just as pure, but wiser now. It’s choosing to believe that your heart still knows how to open, even after it has learned how to break.
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