The Little Black Fish once told me that she had seen the true shape of love.

I asked her to tell me about it.

SHe said : she had lived in a house where, from inside a fishbowl, she could watch the lives of a young couple.

They lived together without ever realizing just how deeply they loved each other.

Then, one day, the woman in our story was involved in an accident, and both her hands were severed.

In the operating room, she begged the doctors and nurses not to let her live. She pleaded with them to kill her, then let out a long, profound scream.

She had never imagined that her husband would come rushing into the operating room and say:

I searched every street until I found your hands. If you can reattach them, please do whatever you can. But if you can’t, my love, I will become your hands.
SHe told me that the little fish was now eight years old, and that, to this day, the man in our story still does everything for his wife on his own.

When she needs a bath, he bathes her. When she is hungry, he helps her eat. He washes her and stays by her side wherever he goes.

The Little Black Fish said:

True love isn’t about how good you are in bed or how many romantic phrases you know by heart.

It isn’t about how many gifts or pieces of jewelry you receive.

I saw with my own eyes how, when his wife fell asleep, the man would gaze lovingly at her with the two hands she no longer had. I witnessed his loyalty and the way he made life beautiful for her.

The Little Black Fish understood the true meaning of love better than any therapist, because she witnessed it through actions.
✍️SaraR