She tells him she loves him in little ways. A look, sometimes, when they’re laughing too hard. A smile, when something reminds her of an inside joke. A hand in his hand, instinctively when they’re crossing the road. Asking him to hold her when she’s drunk.
She tells him whatever they have is forever in little ways. By asking him to come for her wedding, and promising to dance at his. By talking about children’s names. By discussing where to meet when they’re forty. She tells him I doubt we’d fall apart even if we live in different continents
She tells him she can’t live without him in little ways. By telling him how much he means to her. By getting him to talk to her everyday. By making him thoughtful, meaningful gifts. And telling him everything she is thinking about. And valuing his opinions.
She tells him to stay in little ways. By asking him questions. By following up. By not letting him stop talking to her. By begging and cajoling and acting like a baby, but also acting like a mother.
She tells him she loves him in little ways. But those little ways are enough for her. Because she could never show him she’s in love with him. And those little ways are enough because he catches on to it, but thinks it’s platonic and sister-ly.