“Are you sure,” he asked quietly. “I never want to push you into anything.”
Rebecca nodded, smiling through tears.
“I am sure.”
Daniel did not speak. He simply reached for her hand, his grip warm and careful, as if he held something precious and fragile. In that moment, Rebecca believed in love again.
From that day forward, loneliness left her life. Daniel still spoke little, still limped across the wooden floors, still fixed broken machines with patient hands. Yet he became her shelter. Each morning he brewed coffee. Each evening she baked bread. They rarely said the words I love you, yet every gesture spoke it clearly.
One afternoon, Rebecca watched Daniel repair a neighbor’s old radio, humming quietly while turning tiny screws. She realized then that love did not need fireworks or early beginnings. Love only needed the right heart.
Ten years passed like drifting leaves.
Their cedar cottage glowed golden every autumn. Daniel now had streaks of silver in his hair. His limp remained, yet Rebecca never saw it as a flaw. It was simply part of the man who never left her side.