My lover doesn’t speak my mother tongue.
So when I tell him being with him feels like getting on a train right before the doors close, he doesn’t understand if I mean the thrill, the danger or the satisfaction.
I asked my Spanish teacher if there was a word for that feeling and she stared at me, without a response.
I searched the Korean language to see if the strokes and circles could paint that picture that would make him understand how every day with him feels like a victory.
I watch him bite into his favourite food after a long time and ask if it comes with a side of fulfillment.
He tells me it only comes with a side of homemade ketchup.
Later, I tell my lover “te amo” and “saranghae jagiya” and hand him some leftovers so he could have a taste of my day.
He doesn’t say anything back but smiles and squeezes my hand a little tighter.
My lover doesn’t speak my mother tongue but he knows I love him when I look at him and say something softly.
He doesn’t speak my mother tongue but he speaks the language of my heart and for today, I think that’s enough.
Shreya Minocha is a creative writer and independent producer who loves writing about politics, pansexuality, dysfunctional relationships, and immigrant stories, among other depressing themes. She is currently finishing up her MA degree in an attempt to accommodate her love of comedy into serious themes. She can be found on Instagram @sighofthesea.