“I know that.”
“Do you?”
His question irritated me at first, but later I realized that he was worried about me.
He had watched me grieve. He knew how lonely I had been.
He did not want me to confuse the comfort of an old memory with the reality of a new relationship.
I promised him I would be careful.
But the truth was that Anna and I had already begun to fall in love.
It happened quietly.
There was no dramatic declaration, no sudden kiss beneath the rain, and no moment when either of us announced that our feelings had changed.
Instead, it happened when she remembered how I liked my tea.
When I began carrying an extra sweater in my car because she often felt cold.
When she called me after a doctor’s appointment simply because she wanted someone to talk to.
And when, one evening, she fell asleep on the sofa in my living room while we watched an old film.
