I find ridiculous the contemporary idea that love must exist without disturbance, without inconvenience. That love must only be continued if there are no consequences, damage, “cost” (to borrow the favoured business term).
When a person extends her hand into the water, the water is disturbed. When the whisk goes into eggs, the eggs are disturbed. A canvas has to bear the disturbance of paint. A plain wall is disturbed by the appearance of a shadow.
Disturbance is contact.