11 April 2026, 2 years together
I remember being so aware of you. Every word I chose felt suddenly important, every moment something I wanted to get right. I was terrified of saying the wrong thing, not because I was unsure, but because I was certain. And certainty like that is worth being careful with.
So when we went our separate ways, I did something I'd never done before: I made an Instagram account, just to find you again. No grand gesture, no perfect words ready. Just the quiet knowledge that I wasn't done, that I couldn't be, and that you were worth the nerve it took.
— and I knew, even then.
Chorsu Bazaar, Tashkent
Somewhere on the road to Samarkand
Hours of open road, green hills, grey sky and I was barely paying attention to any of it. I was thinking about what to say, and how to say it without giving too much away. In the end I kept it simple. Honest, but light. The kind of message you send when you're trying not to seem like you've been thinking about it for three days.
The moon is beautiful tonight
Our early calls were quiet ones. Both of us a little unsure, a little careful: the kind of conversations where the silences felt as important as the words.
I didn't mind. I could have stayed in them for hours.
One evening I told you the moon was beautiful. You said you could die happy. I didn't quite know what to make of it at the time, but you explained it was Japanese — too shy to tell me the true meaning.
月が綺麗ですね — 'the moon is beautiful tonight' — is a way of saying I love you.
Too deep to say plainly, so you say it sideways, through something outside yourself.
You said it before either of us had the words.
You became the best part of my day. Every evening, without fail, you were there — warm and steady and entirely yourself. The kind of presence that makes everything outside it feel a little more manageable.
I don't think you knew how much it meant. The calls that ran longer than either of us planned, the way you always seemed to know when to talk and when to just be there. You had a gift for it.
One night you read to me. I'm not sure I've ever felt so looked after.
Across every timezone, you found me.
Months of calls and messages and time zones, and then one day the distance just... ended. I was nervous in a way I hadn't expected, as if everything we'd built needed a moment to catch up with reality.
And then it did. And it was better than I'd imagined, which is saying something, because I'd imagined it a lot.
Antalya
Our hands, finally together
Ayran, at our favourite spot
Exploring the Antalya nature
Pamukkale
Natural hot springs
Hiding from the rain in ancient ruins
Antalya Sun
Dinner
Chess Champion
Goofy Mood After all the calls and the countdowns, there you were again. You'd been saving places to show me — you knew every one of them by heart — you gave me Kazakhstan through your eyes. The canyons, the mountains, the lake. And then Shymkent, your family, the home that made you who you are. Being welcomed in like that is something I'll never forget.
Just Us
I spent every moment of that flight thinking about seeing you again. The mountains below felt like a sign — something beautiful waiting on the other side of the distance.
Our own cabin, our own quiet. Just us, a bridge held together by hope, and nowhere else we needed to be.
The first Khinkali and Khachapuri — experiencing the flavors of Georgia together.
Homemade breakfasts together, tasting the love in every bite. I can't wait to experience this with you everyday together.
We changed all our plans over a catch encounter with Levani. And we couldn't have made a better choice. We enjoyed the luxury of a hotel, saw amazing views and improved our skiing and snowboarding
Relaxing on our final days in Gudauri — enjoying the sauna, the amazing views, your first swimming and meeting interesting people.
You decided my skin needed saving after five days in the mountain sun. I didn't argue. I never do when you're taking care of me.
One last day just us, before everything got louder and happier. We walked the route David would later take us on — almost step for step. We already knew this city. We just didn't know it yet.
& then my family arrived
We've been talking about Zeli…
…
We like her!!!
— Mum & Dad, on the phone home
A few of the things I'm looking forward to.
You are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you. Happy anniversary.
Your Adam