Not More, Not Less, Just “Love”

I came across this story, and it made me stop and think about love differently.

A fish fell in love with a bird. Madly. Deeply.

But their idea of love was different.

For the bird, love meant acceptance. He understood that some hearts meet but cannot build a home together.

For the fish, love meant staying together at any cost.

So she rebelled.

She trained herself to fly. She hurt. She fell. She tried again and again until she finally reached his branch.

And for a while, they had everything.

Except she couldn't breathe there.

She kept returning to the water, as though she was borrowing her own breath.

The bird watched her slowly lose herself to love and feared the worst.

What if someday she didn't make it back in time?

So one day, while she was underwater, the bird left.

No goodbye.
No explanation.

She waited.

He never returned.

The fish stopped flying to the branch, but she kept waiting for him every day.

Her wounds healed in the water.
Her wings became whole again.

But some wounds never touch the body.

And the bird?

He came from afar every day, just to see her.

Breathing.
Living.

Maybe, for him, that was enough.

And then comes the question:

Who loved more?

The one who gave up herself for love?

Or the one who gave up love itself?

I don't know if there is an answer.

But reading this story changed the way I look at love.

Maybe we try too hard to measure it.

Who gave more?
Who sacrificed more?
Who stayed longer?
Who cared more?
Who loved harder?

But why do we need to count?

The fish loved in the only way she knew how.
The bird loved in the only way he knew how.

One held on.
One let go.

One tried to make the impossible possible.
The other understood that love sometimes means allowing someone to return to where they can breathe.

Neither love was more. Neither love was less. They simply loved differently.

And maybe that's what I understand now.

Love is love.

It is meant to be given.

Freely.
Genuinely.
Unconditionally.

Whether it is the love between two partners, parents and children, siblings, friends, or any relationship that holds a place in our hearts.

Love shouldn't be a calculation.

I loved you this much, so you should love me this much.

I did this for you, so you should do something for me.

I sacrificed more, so I must have loved more.

The moment we start measuring love, somewhere that simple touch of love is gone.

Because love was never supposed to be a transaction.

You don't love someone because you are keeping track of what you will get back.

You love because you love.

You care because you care.

You give because something inside you wants to give.

Sometimes you stay.

Sometimes you fight.

Sometimes you hold someone close.

And sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is let them go.

Not because you love them less.

But because love isn't always about having someone. Sometimes it is simply wanting them to be okay, even if you cannot be the one beside them.

So I don't want to ask anymore—

Who loved more?

Maybe there is no need to know.

Maybe we should just love.

Without counting.
Without comparing.
Without keeping score.

Because your love isn't more than mine.
My love isn't more than yours.

Not mine more, nor yours less.
Not yours more, nor mine less.

Just love.

And maybe, at the end of everything, that is all I want love to be — just love.