At five, I learned sign language for Andre — the quiet boy who sat alone 
.
He lost his hearing at three, and silence became the world he lived in 
.
So friendship became our own language 
.
Not rushed. Not forced. Just patient and kind.
By high school, we didn’t need notes.
By college, we were already walking life side by side 
.
One calm evening, under a sky that didn’t need words,
he signed: “Stay with me.” 
Some love stories are loud.
Ours was built on silence.
On patience.
On understanding .
Because sometimes, love doesn’t speak —
it signs 
