Not about comfort.
Not about me.
"My name is Russell."
"Lena."
"It suits you."
He smiled warmly.
That five-minute conversation changed my life.
Unexpected Friendship
Russell returned to the restaurant twice over the next month.
Not because he needed catering.
Because he wanted to talk.
Sometimes we'd have coffee after my shift.
Sometimes we'd walk through the park.
He never mentioned his wealth.
He asked about my childhood.
My dreams.
My favorite books.
The places I wanted to visit someday.
Nobody had asked about my dreams in a very long time.
Eventually, I learned his story.
He was sixty-two.
His wife, Margaret, had died three years earlier after a long illness.
They'd been married thirty-seven years.
His house had become unbearably quiet.
His children visited only when they needed something.
Money.
Business advice.
Another investment.
Loneliness doesn't care how much money sits in your bank account.
The Proposal
Three months later, Russell invited me to dinner.
Not an expensive restaurant.
Our favorite neighborhood Italian café.
Halfway through dessert, he reached into his jacket.
My heart stopped.
"Lena."
He placed a small velvet box on the table.
"I know what people will say."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"They'll think you've chosen money."
He smiled sadly.
"But I know better."
"I've watched you care about people who could never repay you."
"I've watched you work until your hands shook."
"I've watched you refuse help because your pride wouldn't allow it."
"I don't need someone to impress me."
"I need someone to come home to."
He opened the box.
A simple diamond.
Elegant.
Timeless.
"Will you marry me?"
I cried before I answered.
