Things, subscriptions, other people's time, even a waiter's fake smile—it can all be paid for. And at some point, a dangerous illusion arises: if I invest enough "resources," I'll get love in return.

Beautiful gestures, sumptuous dinners, trips to the ocean... It works. But they're buying something else. They're buying comfort. And comfort and love have fundamentally different natures, easily confused until the first storm hits.

What's the difference?
Comfort is being comfortable, well-fed, and warm with you.
Love is what makes someone stay when it gets cold, uncomfortable, and downright lousy.

You can rent a table at the best restaurant in the world, but the look in someone's eyes who looks at you and thinks, "How lucky I am that you simply exist" is not for sale. You can pay for the most expensive hotel, but genuine trust isn't included in the price of the stay. You can blind someone with your success, but you can't break their heart by throwing the right amount of money at them.

Love has never been a bargain. It is born where we are vulnerable, where there are no guarantees, and where we make a new choice every day.

If love can't be bought, then no one can take it away.