Humming to Dwin the Stoic's Without your love, I watched them dance with happy tears falling freely from my eyes; my brother found his other half.

He looked at peace with himself, like he couldn't be more content with the way things were. One look at him and you could tell how enamoured he was by his bride, Chioma. His eyes never left her for longer than a few seconds. Nothing else mattered to him as they swayed and sang the lyrics of the song like they were all alone in the world.

"But oh my love,

You're mine by design,

See as you fine,

Love of my life,

I'm here for you,

I'd be a fool

If I don't call you,

Anything you need,

Call me talk and do..."

The moment I knew my brother had not just tripped but had tumbled and fallen deeply in love was when they separated last year. He couldn't leave his apartment and he struggled with everything so he called in sick at work. Three days, he was in bed, till I kicked his door open and hit his head repeatedly till sense crawled into it.

"You're a wreck without this woman and you're doing nothing about it. That's self-destructive!"

He responded by covering his face with his duvet. In response, I called him names, opened his curtains, played loud music, cooked for him, did his laundry and placed his phone in his hands. "Go ahead, Yemi."

"What if she doesn't want me anymore?" He asked, and for a second, he was Yemi, my baby brother again, not some 6'3 built man that didn't need his big sister's help anymore.

"How will you know if you don't call her?" I asked and turned to leave the room.

He called and they both broke down upon hearing each other's voice. They had been broken and unable to function without each other. Chioma had assumed he wanted nothing to do with her and he had assumed the same. He invited her over and I knew my job was done.

As they swayed to the song that best described their love, I couldn't help but want someone to look at me that way, hold me like he held her, whisper in my ears and make me giggle like a child.

At that moment, I thought of Moses. The man who took my birthday more seriously than I did, who curated the best surprises, who had been my best friend for years before traveling to Paris to polish his cooking skills, who was back and annoying me with his suddenly bold and extravagant love proposals, who cooked and sent me lunch with handwritten notes everyday at work. Moses, the man I think I might like, for his thoughtful kindness and constant presence. Maybe it will fail, maybe it won't work. Maybe my story won't end like Yemi and Chioma's. I still want to try.