Daniel recovered slowly. Rebecca read to him each morning. He watched the porch and falling leaves each afternoon. One day he said, “I love autumn because it shows that even when things fall away, they return in new beauty. We met late, yet our love still bloomed.”
Rebecca placed a cup of tea in his hands.
“And we will have many more autumns,” she whispered.
Daniel smiled. That smile answered everything.
A year later, they rode an old bicycle to buy fresh bread in the mornings and drank tea on the porch afterward. Daniel often said that hearing Rebecca prepare tea made his heart feel alive.
Sometimes townsfolk asked, “Do you ever wish you had met him earlier?”
Rebecca would shake her head with a peaceful smile.
“No,” she said. “If I had not been hurt, I might never have understood the love I found.”
One rainy day, Rebecca made two cups of tea. Daniel did not sit on the porch. He lay in bed, breathing weakly. Rebecca held his hand.
“Do not go yet,” she pleaded softly. “I have not finished today’s tea.”
Daniel smiled faintly.
“I have tasted it,” he whispered. “I smell the cinnamon. That is enough.”
He closed his eyes, still smiling.