She Was Having Dinner Alone On Valentine’s Day When a CEO Appeared With a Rose And Said …
Valentine’s Day. If someone asked Laya Bennett which day of the year she liked best, the answer would certainly never be today, especially not this year. The restaurant La Lumiere glimmered with candle light.
Red roses filled every table and soft jazz drifted through the air as if Cupid himself were playing the saxophone. Couples dressed to the nines sat facing each other, trading looks that said, “It’s just you and me in the universe.” In short, the perfect setting for lovers, a disaster for the single. At a table tucked by the window, there was an exception.
Laya Bennett, 28, a librarian at a small city library, sat up straight, facing an empty chair. In front of her were a glass of water, an untouched bread basket, and an oversized menu she had stared at for 10 minutes for no real reason. She sighed and dropped her chin into her hand. Perfect. I’m basically a living advertisement for eating alone, 5 minutes of sadness, a whole evening of embarrassment.
Here’s the story. A week ago, Laya and her ex-boyfriend Derek officially broke up. Not because of a big fight, and there wasn’t a third person involved. The reason was simple to the point of heartbreaking. Derek said she was boring and unambitious. All you do is read books and work in that tiny library.
I need someone who can be a partner in my career, not someone who just likes hanging around old novels. And that was that. Three years of love went straight down the drain just because she wasn’t ambitious enough. Laya had talked tough and dumped him right then and there. But sitting here tonight, surrounded by dozens of couples trading chocolates and diamond rings, her heart gave a small stab.
Yes, she chose books over Dererick’s law firm, but did that mean she was dull? A server approached, wearing a polite smile. Are you ready to order? Laya shook her head. Give me a few more minutes, please. He nodded and moved on, leaving her to continue sitting alone in a sea of love birds. She pulled out her phone and pretended to be busy as if someone was about to call.
The only message on the screen was from her mom. Remember to dress warmly. It’s really cold here. Laya swallowed the bitterness. She genuinely wanted someone here. Not a diamond ring, not a bouquet as big as a planter, just someone who wouldn’t see her as an outdated book on a dusty shelf. A couple at the next table started giggling.
The man scooped up some ice cream to feed his girlfriend, and she pretended to be shy before opening her mouth. Anyway, Laya tried to look away, but her eyes were drawn to another couple exchanging a heart-shaped gift box. Propping her chin, she muttered, “Wonderful. This is exactly the mental endurance test I did not sign up for.
What’s so funny about eating spaghetti alone on Valentine’s Day? If people looked over, they’d think she’d just had her heart broken or worse, been stood up. At least Derek didn’t stand me up. He just canled our future together. Laya decided to order so she didn’t look like the poster child for the single crowd.
I’ll have the spaghetti carbonara and a glass of red wine, please. The server nodded, his eyes tinged with sympathy, the kind of look people usually give a stray cat in the rain. Laya let out a small laugh. Right. Go ahead and think of me as a cat. A cat that eats spaghetti. While waiting for her food, she opened her wallet and looked at her library card, its corners worn.
That was the one place she truly felt she belonged. Shelving books every day, helping kids find comic books, or recommending novels to a 70-year-old grandmother. All of it made her happy. But Derek didn’t see it that way. In his eyes, her simple joy was nothing compared to multi-million dollar deals.
“Maybe I really am boring,” Laya murmured, then immediately shook her head. “No, no, reading isn’t boring. The world is too noisy. It needs people who keep a bit of quiet.” She consoled herself as she broke off a piece of bread, popped it into her mouth, and chewed as if she were punishing someone. The music in the restaurant shifted to a classic romantic ballad.
Laya looked around and saw nothing but smiles and tender gazes. She shrugged, lifted her glass, and toasted herself. “Happy Valentine’s, Laya. Here’s to surviving the loneliest Valentine’s Day in history.” The wine shimmerred under the lights, casting on her face a glow that was both sad and a little funny. And right then she had no idea that the empty chair across from her would soon be filled by someone carrying a red rose and a line that would turn the whole evening upside down.
The wine glass in Laya’s hand had not yet touched her lips when a tall figure suddenly blocked the golden light above her table. She looked up. Standing before her was a man, early 30s, clad in a black suit that framed his broad shoulders, a deep red tie, and dark hair neatly styled, though a fewrebellious strands fell across his forehead.
In short, he looked as though he had stepped straight off the cover of a financial magazine. In his hand was a single crimson rose. Without a word, the man placed the rose on her table, then leaned just close enough for his gray eyes to lock onto Laya’s startled gaze. His voice was deep, each word crisp and deliberate.
I don’t want you to go through the sorrow I once endured. You deserve more than that. The entire restaurant fell briefly silent. The clink of spoons against wine glasses ceased midair. A few couples turned their heads and some women gaped as if watching a movie proposal unfold before their eyes. Someone whispered, “Is that David Hail, the CEO of Hail Corp? Oh my god, it really is him.
That name made Llaya freeze. David Hail, the name plastered across business magazines tied to massive real estate projects known to the public as the ICE CEO. She blinked rapidly. Wait a second. She was sitting here eating spaghetti alone, and David Hail, the man everyone claimed was cold and heartless, had just handed her a rose.
Um, Laya opened her mouth, but her brain hadn’t yet produced a logical sentence. What came out was only, “Are you sure you’re not at the wrong table? Do I look like someone who just ordered roses online?” The man, David, tilted his mouth into a faint smirk. No mistake. His certainty only deepened her confusion. Three possibilities lit up in her head.
This was some bet among bored rich men. A hidden camera was filming for YouTube with the title, “SEO gives rose to single woman. Her reaction shocks everyone.” or he actually thought she was pitiful. “Honestly, none of those options was easy to swallow.” “You’re really David Hail?” Laya finally managed a proper question. He nodded, calm as if confirming, “Yes, it rained today.” CEO of Hail Corp. Yes.
Silence again. The scarlet rose sat between them. Undeniable proof of an event nobody could explain. Laya cleared her throat, forcing a sarcastic smile. Um, thanks for the rose, but honestly, if you’re trying to sell me life insurance, I’m broke. A flicker of surprise crossed David’s eyes before a soft chuckle escaped him.
A warm, low sound that made a few waitresses glance back. Not insurance, he replied. I just don’t want to see anyone sitting alone today. Trust me, I’ve sat in that very spot, and it was awful. Laya’s heart skipped. He had spoken as though he knew exactly what she felt. She quickly propped her chin on her hand, looking away.
Is that so? Then you must have plenty of experience with solo Valentine’s dinners. Enough to know a single rose can rescue an entire evening. The waiter approached, his eyes sparkling as if witnessing a historic love confession. Mister Hail, what wine would you like tonight? Red, David answered, then turned to Laya.
And you? Oh, I I already ordered White. He gave a simple nod, said nothing more, but pulled out the empty chair and sat across from her with the ease of someone settling into his rightful place. Laya glanced around. As expected, nearly every table within 5 m was pretending to eat while shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation.
She swallowed, lowered her gaze to the rose, then lifted it again to the man across from her. Was this real? Had she just wandered into the pages of a best-selling romance novel? You’re absolutely sure you’re not mistaken about something? She tried again, softer this time. David leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp yet not as cold as the rumors.
I’ve never been mistaken about this kind of thing. That answer didn’t calm her nerves. It only made her feel like she’d become the center of the entire restaurant’s attention without her consent. Right then, her spaghetti arrived. The waiter placed the plate down with such a radiant grin that Laya half suspected he believed this was a secret proposal in disguise.
“Thanks,” she muttered, then bent down, twirling pasta around her fork, trying to appear normal. “But really, how could anyone eat comfortably when one of the city’s most famous men had just given you a rose and was now sitting across from you, watching with unreadable eyes?” She inhaled deeply, thinking, “Okay, just act composed.
Just eat spaghetti gracefully like a single woman completely unbothered by a multi-millionaire CEO.” The result, the first strand of pasta slapped straight against her chin, face burning. Laya dropped her fork. “See, this is why I should eat alone. At least when I’m clumsy, nobody’s there to witness it.” David smiled and handed her a napkin.
I actually find it refreshing. At least you’re not pretending. Those gentle words sent her heart tilting in a way she refused to admit. She raised her brows, deflecting. Well, thanks for the rose, but I still don’t understand why a supposedly cold, untouchable CEO cares about a boring librarian eating spaghetti by herself.
David stayed silent for a few moments, his gaze drifting to the rose before settling on her again.There are things I’ll say when the time is right. Laya sat frozen, torn between amusement and unease. All she had wanted tonight was a quiet meal, then a movie, and a face mask at home. Instead, she now sat across from David Hail, the enigmatic man, hand on his wine glass, eyes carrying a story she couldn’t yet decipher. And she had a feeling.
This was only the beginning. The air around that little table seemed to freeze. Everyone nearby looked on, half curious, half envious, but David didn’t seem to care about the stairs. He sat opposite her, calmly, swirling the glass of red wine the waiter had just delivered, his composure so complete that Laya felt slightly annoyed.
He even ordered the same dish she had.” She set her fork down and folded her arms. “You know, sitting like this makes me feel like I’m on some live broadcast dating show.” David raised an eyebrow. “And you look like the contestant who wants to quit halfway.” “Well, if quitting were an option, I’d already be gone.” He chuckled softly.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make a few people at the next table jump and glance over before awkwardly turning away. “Actually,” David said, sliding the rose closer to his wine glass. “I just don’t want to see anyone sitting alone on Valentine’s Day. I know what that feels like and I don’t think anyone deserves it. Laya arched a brow.
You talk as if you’re some saint of lonely hearts. Not a saint, just someone who’s been there. It was a simple statement, but his voice carried enough weight that she didn’t know whether to keep teasing or fall silent. To break the mood, Laya shifted the topic. So, a CEO like you must be awfully free to hand out roses to random women, huh? No, but tonight I wanted to have dinner with someone real, not a business partner, not someone who only sees the number in my bank account.
Laya’s eyes widened. Good grief. That sounded like a line straight out of a luxury romance movie. She shook her head, stifling a laugh. Then you’ve clearly never argued with a librarian overdue books. Trust me, that’s someone real. David tilted his head, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
So, you really are a librarian? Yep. My job includes sniffing old paper, battling dust, and occasionally scaring students with tiny late fees. He nodded as though she’d just described a job more fascinating than being a CEO. What kind of books do you like? He asked. That’s a dangerous question. Laya raised her brows.
Once I start, you’ll never escape. Try me. And so, amid the hushed murmurss of the restaurant, Laya launched into an enthusiastic monologue about Jane Austin, about evenings spent with pride and prejudice and a cup of tea, about the thrill of finding a rare old book. David listened in silence. Not the distracted, half-hearted, mhm, sounds nice kind of listening Derek.
Her ex used to give while scrolling his phone. No. David’s attention was steady, focused, so sincere it unsettled her a little. And you? She asked back. What does a CEO read? Meeting minutes, financial reports? His lips curved faintly. Plenty of those. But I also read real books, architecture, history, and sometimes novels.
If you read romance novels, I’ll faint. Haven’t tried, but you might be the reason I start. Laya nearly choked on her wine. She set the glass down quickly, covering her mouth to cough. Good grief, this blunt style is dangerous. As they talked, the tension between them eased. Laughter slipped in, softening the drama of the rose, turning it into a pleasant detail in the scene.
Strange, barely half an hour ago, Laya had felt like the odd one out on Valentine’s Day. Now she was sitting here eating spaghetti and chatting with one of the men most talked about in business magazines. If she told her best friend, she could already imagine the response. You having dinner with a CEO? When the meal was nearly over, David sat down his fork and looked at her. Laya.
She glanced up, her heart skipping at the sound of her name. After dinner, would you like to take a walk with me? She froze. The question was soft, but it shifted the air around them. A walk? You mean outside looking at all those giant glowing heart-shaped decorations? Yes. If you’re not busy, I just think a Valentine’s evening shouldn’t end with a plate of spaghetti.
Laya bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the red rose. In her mind, an image flickered. Her an ordinary librarian strolling with the city’s coldest CEO beneath Valentine’s lights. It sounded like she was about to become the protagonist of one of the romance novels she sheld at the library. She hesitated.
Aren’t you worried people will misunderstand? I mean, you’re David Hail and I’m just just think of me tonight as a man who wants to walk. Nothing more. She looked up. There was no trace of mockery in his eyes. Calm, steady, and sincere. A minute ago, she’d thought he was only here to play some odd game. But now, her heart stirred with something different.
Curiosity and a flicker of feelings shedidn’t want to name. At last, she exhaled, shrugging lightly. All right, then. But fair warning, my shoes aren’t made for long walks. If I complain about sore feet, that’s on you. The corner of David’s mouth lifted. I’ll take responsibility. The Valentine’s night breeze wasn’t as cold as Laya expected.
Maybe it was because the city seemed to be celebrating together, making the air feel warmer. Heart-shaped lights hung everywhere. Cafes played love songs and street stalls overflowed with balloons, chocolates, and teddy bears. Laya walked beside David, trying to keep a steady pace. Her heels weren’t meant for strolling.
Yet somehow her steps felt lighter than usual. Almost as if she were acting in a Netflix romance premiering tonight. “Crowded street,” Laya said, breaking the silence. “Do you ever come out like this? Or do CEOs just like being trapped in offices with papers and meetings?” David glanced at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. That sounded like mockery. It is.
I don’t get many opportunities to speak with CEOs. Got to make the most of it. He let out a short laugh, a small sound, but enough to ease the air between them. They turned on to the main street, strings of golden pink lights shimmering overhead. Under that glow, David seemed less like the ICE CEO and more approachable.
Still in a luxury suit, but his eyes didn’t look as cold as the rumors. Then his voice broke through slow and deep. I’ve had Valentine’s worse than sitting alone in a restaurant. Laya faltered. His words weren’t tossed off casually. They carried the weight of memory. She wanted to ask worse how, but she held back. The air around him felt heavier, touched by an old sadness.
So instead, she smiled softly. “Well, then consider today an upgrade. At least you’ve got me now.” David turned, gray eyes flashing with a hint of surprise before he nodded. “True, much better.” They walked on. A street band played Can’t Help Falling in Love on violins. Couples stopped to take photos and share kisses.
Laya wrinkled her nose. This city really knows how to psychologically torment single people. You’re holding a rose. That doesn’t count as single. She laughed, raising the rose. You know, if you whip out a box of chocolates and a diamond ring, I’ll assume you’re staging a fake proposal just to mess with me. Proposals aren’t a joke, David replied.
His tone was calm, but it startled her. I was kidding. “Don’t be so serious.” They paused outside a small bookshop. Warm light spilled from the windows, highlighting rows of romance novels stacked by the glass. “You like this place?” David asked. “Of course.” “If I went in, I’d never come out.” “How is that any different from your library?” “Huge difference.
” Laya put her hands on her hips. “At the library, I’m the caretaker. In a bookstore, I get to drown in books without worrying about late fees or someone spilling coffee on the pages.” David nodded, his gaze softening. They kept walking, this time at a slower pace, not forcing conversation. The silences between them weren’t uncomfortable.
Laya glanced at him. Strangely, she didn’t feel the same pressure she had when he first walked into the restaurant. Side by side like this, he wasn’t the ICE CEO anymore. Just a man with broad shoulders, long strides, and eyes that looked at the city as though remembering something far away. David.
He turned at the sound of his name from her lips. Do you usually do things like this? Giving roses to strangers, inviting them for walks. He shook his head slightly. No, this is the first time. The answer was short and firm. No extra explanation. Laya bit her lip, curiosity flaring even more. Then why me? But she swallowed the question, sensing that the answer belonged to another time.
A breeze carried the scent of pastries from a nearby shop. Laya laughed. You know, my Valentine’s night was supposed to end with me eating cold pizza alone and watching a sad movie. Instead, it turned into a walk with the city’s most famous CEO. Do you regret it? Not at all, she shrugged. As long as I don’t wake up to tabloid headlines tomorrow.
CEO Hail’s secret date with heartbroken librarian. David chuckled, the sound lingering longer this time. Reading the paper wouldn’t be so bad. At least they’d have to learn how to spell your name correctly. Their steps brought them to the central square. Lights shimmerred above and a fountain decorated with hundreds of red balloons stood at the center.
Couples lined up to take photos, writing wishes on ribbons and tossing them into the water. Laya hesitated, then asked, “Want to try?” “What about you?” “Me?” “Honestly, I just want ice cream. Valentine’s Day or not, ice cream is still ice cream.” David laughed, this time truly at ease, he nodded. Then ice cream it is. Lead the way, librarian.
They headed toward the ice cream stand, bathed in the glow of city lights and the echo of music. Laya tightened her grip on the rose, suddenly aware that her heart felt light. She didn’t knowwhat tomorrow would bring, nor what secrets lingered behind David’s solemn eyes. But right now, walking beside him, she no longer felt like the girl with the table for one.
And maybe just that alone was enough to make this Valentine’s night special. They stopped at the steps of a small cafe, their breath mingling in the thin Valentine’s night mist. Laya had just finished her ice cream. her other hand still clutching the crimson rose. She couldn’t recall how many times she had glanced at it during their walk, as if to remind herself this wasn’t a dream.
“This is so strange,” Laya said. “I had prepared myself to go home alone tonight, eat cold pizza, and watch some sappy movie just to cry it out. But instead, here I am talking to a CEO holding a rose like something straight out of a fairy tale.” “Do you regret it?” David asked, his tone even. No, just a little mindbending. She laughed and shrugged.
You know, this feels like one of those novels I shove at the library. The male lead swoops in from nowhere. Rescue a lonely evening. But in the books, there’s always a twist. In real life, I’m not sure I’d want to test that. David was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the pink light strung above. Then he turned back to her.
Then test it with me. Laya frowned. Test what? Date me for one month. The air froze. Laya burst out laughing, certain she’d misheard. Sorry, did you just say date you? For a month? You’ve got to be joking. I’m not. David’s voice was firm. I want to date you, but only for a month. Her jaw dropped. You’re insane. We’ve known each other for less than 2 hours.
Normal people start with coffee, not some timelmited romance contract. That’s exactly why I called it a test. His gaze didn’t waver. I want to know if real feelings exist. And I believe you won’t see me through the lens of my bank account. Laya blinked rapidly, her heart racing as if she’d just run a marathon, while her mind screamed, “Unbelievable.
This is too bizarre. You think I’d agree?” a plain librarian and a CEO. The press would turn me into a laughingtock overnight.” David shook his head. “Forget the press. This is just between you and me. No one else.” She exhaled sharply, grasping for her usual sarcasm to cover her nerves. “All right, then listen carefully.
” “If I did agree,” purely hypothetically, there would be conditions. A spark of curiosity lit his eyes. “What conditions?” She raised a finger like a teacher scolding a student. One, no extravagant gifts. I don’t want designer bags, diamond bracelets, or fancy cars. Bring them and I’ll return them. Agreed. Two, no contracts, no bizarre clauses.
I hate paperwork. I’m a librarian, not your employee. Agreed. Three. She hesitated, her voice softening. For that one month, we’re just two ordinary people. No CEO, no librarian, just David and Laya. He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. Agreed. Laya froze. Wait, did he just nod that easily? You’re sure? She pressed, still doubtful.
I’ve never been more sure. Then he stepped closer just enough for the street light to deepen the gray of his eyes. Do you dare to try, Laya? She bit her lip. Part of her brain screamed, “No.” But another part whispered, “Why not?” Finally, she laughed and shrugged. “All right, then.” “But you should know. I eat expired cereal for breakfast.
I read until 2:00 a.m. and I mutter to myself when I’m stressed. If you can handle that, go ahead and try.” David’s mouth curved. “I’ve handled worse.” That night, they parted at a wide intersection. David hailed a taxi for her while Laya slipped into the back seat, still clutching the rose, her heart pounding.
The car window reflected him standing under the red glow of the street light, tall and steady, unreadable. She shook her head, laughing softly to herself. This Valentine’s Day, she had just signed the strangest contract-free love agreement in history. And somewhere deep in her heart, Laya knew this was only the beginning.
The next morning, when Laya arrived at the library, everything seemed perfectly ordinary. The smell of old paper, the creaking of footsteps across the wooden floor, and a few students yawning as they returned books. But as soon as she opened the work counter, she froze. Lying neatly among the thick pile of files was a single red rose.
No card, no signature, just a rose, its petals still dewy. Oh my god, Laya muttered, her heart skipping a beat. Only one man could be crazy enough to do this. She picked up the rose, both flustered and amused. David Hail, the ICE CEO, had actually remembered their one-mon dating trial. Before she could hide the rose, her colleague Jenny, the cheerful, curly-haired librarian, walked over.
“What’s this? Who gave you flowers?” Jenny squealled, eyes sparkling. “Um, must have been left at the wrong desk.” Right. Wrong desk, but perfectly timed with Valentine’s plus one. And it’s a red rose. Jenny folded her arms, grinning slightly. Come on, spill it. What are you hiding? Flushing,Laya shoved the rose into her drawer. Nothing.
Probably just a patron leaving it behind. Jenny narrowed her eyes. Sure, because people are always dropping roses at dawn. What Laya thought was a random stunt turned out to be anything but. On the second day, when she opened Pride and Prejudice on the English lit shelf, the one she secretly reread often, there was a fresh rose pressed between page 52.
On the third day, at her usual cafe, another rose sat waiting on her favorite table, accompanied by a tiny note, “Books taste better with flowers.” On the fourth day, when she opened her locker for her coat, a rose tumbled out, nearly making her scream. And so it went. Every day another rose. Lla was going crazy.
Half of her was annoyed. Did he think he was some fairy godmother? But the other half, her heart fluttered at every glimpse of that red bloom. Of course, her library colleagues quickly caught on to this “Girl, you’ve definitely got a secret admirer,” Jenny whispered. “Must be one of the lit professors.
They’re hopeless romantics,” another chimed in. or maybe a mysterious millionaire,” someone teased, eyes shining. All Yayla could do was laugh awkwardly and shake her head. If they knew it was David Hail, they’d keel over. One afternoon, she spotted David himself at the corner near the library. He didn’t come inside, just leaned against his car as if waiting to see whether she’d found the rose.
She marched over, holding up the bloom she’d just discovered in her locker, her voice half scolding, half laughing. You know this is called psychological warfare, right? David unfazed. If it’s warfare, then it’s with flowers. Do you realize how many people would kill to be terrorized like this? Yeah, but a rose every day.
Don’t you ever get bored? Not yet, he answered simply. She bit her lip, unsure whether to be mad or amused. Finally, she muttered. You really have too much time on your hands. His mouth curved. Spending time on the right person is never a waste. That night, lying in bed, Laya placed the roses side by side. There were only four so far since Valentine’s.
Yet, her little room was already perfumed with their scent. She snapped a picture, then laughed at herself. This was exactly what she had sworn never to do. Keep flowers from a man. But now, her heart felt strangely warm. On the fifth day, Jenny caught Laya smiling down at a new rose in her drawer.
“See, you’re falling for him,” Jenny exclaimed. “I am not,” Lla protested weakly. “Oh, please. Your face says it all. Whoever’s making you smile like that, I approve.” Laya pretended to glare, but didn’t deny it. It was impossible not to be moved. Each rose wasn’t extravagant, but it always appeared in the right place at the right time.
As if David were silently saying, “I think of you every day.” And every time she looked at those scarlet pedals, Laya’s heart raced faster. For the first time since Derek, she no longer felt invisible in a world made for lovers. The library at night was quiet in that peculiar way. You could almost hear a pin drop.
Warm yellow light spilled down the tall shelves, the smell of old paper mingling with wood, broken only by the occasional squeak of the book cart Laya affectionately called White Horse, though truth be told, its wheels sounded more like a wounded donkey. Laya was wrapping up, tallying late fees, fixing a loose spine with tape, and humming to herself, “Another day done, still alive, and still haven’t dropped a book on anyone’s head.
” She wheeled white horse toward the 823 section, English literature, when she heard a faint tap on the glass door. David stood outside, lifting a hand in greeting. His usual sleek look was softened tonight. His tie hung loose, making him look less like a CEO. “Library still open?” he asked when she unlocked the door.
“For someone who hides roses in a librarian’s locker?” “Maybe,” Laya teased, nudging the closed sign slightly aside. But you’ll have to face a terrible challenge. A challenge? Sorting books by Dewey decimal. One mistake and I’ll find you coffee for a week. David nodded with dead seriousness as if she’d proposed a merger. Accepted.
They pushed White Horse down the aisle. Laya handed him a stack. Golden rule. Look at the spine numbers. Left to right, top to bottom. Don’t you dare let Austin sit next to Dickens. They’d fight all night. David held up pride and prejudice, glanced at the spine, and slid it perfectly into place. The move was so neat, Laya blinked.
“You’re better than some of my interns,” she teased. “Easier than reading a 300page contract,” he replied. The wheel squeak settled into an oddly soothing rhythm. Laya gave him another lighter stack. “This is the romance section. Careful. It’s easy to get lost.” David picked up a pink covered book.
mouth the sugarsw sweet title and chuckled. Overly sweet. Exactly. And sometimes a little sweetness doesn’t hurt, Laya said, shelving more. As long as you watch the dosage. Spoken like a doctor of love.No, just the keeper of the sugar jar. 15 minutes later, the shelf looked neater. Laya dropped onto a small wooden step stool, shoulders relaxing.
David leaned against the shelf, flipping through a dark jacketed book. she snuck a glance. “Aha, caught the ICE CEO with a romance novel in hand.” “You’re actually going to read that?” she asked. “I am.” He opened a random page. I picked blindly. “If it’s bad, I’ll blame Luck.” “Go on then.” She leaned back against the shelf, gesturing. “Read Mr.
100 meetings a day.” David cleared his throat, eyes scanning the lines. His voice was deep, steady, surprisingly perfect for reading aloud. She stood in the narrow room of her youth, where each shadow stretched as long as her fear. He didn’t promise the son, only that he would stand beside her when night came.
He paused, gazed still on the page. The air grew heavier. Laya swallowed. “Not bad.” David turned another page, reading more slowly. “Some people learn love from scarcity. They don’t flaunt miracles. They quietly bring a small loaf when the winds turn cold. The words fell like a pebble into a still pond, rippling outward.
Laya glanced at him, the calm face, but eyes holding something quiet deep. “You’ve got uncanny aim,” she murmured. “Pure chance,” he said, finger marking the page. “But somehow chance seems to choose me.” She let out a nervous laugh, grabbed the book, and flipped it open herself. My turn here, she read with mock gravity. Love isn’t magic.
It’s kindness repeated. Like bringing flowers every morning. Not loud, not demanding, just enough so she knows she’s remembered. Her ears burned. Seriously? Of all passages? David’s lips curved. Sounds familiar. Coincidence? she deflected quickly, shoving the book back on the shelf. Break time. I’ll make cocoa.
Don’t spill it on the books. Yes, ma’am. The back room had an old kettle and two chipped mugs. Laya poured cocoa and handed him one. The warm steam mingled with the smell of paper, creating a comfort that was oddly hard to describe. Thanks, David said, settling into the squeaky office chair. How late do you usually stay? Till 9:30.
Too much precision would ruin the library vibe. She shrugged. What about you? No meetings to run off to. Always meetings, but tonight I wanted to be here. Plain words, no embellishment. Laya stirred her mug nervously. I told you you’re addicted to old paper. Maybe. Or maybe it’s the keeper of the paper. Her spoon nearly clattered.
She coughed, eyes darting away, then quickly shifted topics. Hey, your reading voice was solid. You’d survive the book club with the grandmas. And you read dangerously well, David replied. People might believe it. Believe what? That kindness repeated becomes something we call love. Her hand stilled on the mug handle. Don’t melt this fast, Laya.
It’s only the first week. She forced a laugh, setting the mug down. Okay, let’s not turn the staff room into a romance film set. We’ve still got half a cart left. Back at the shelves, they worked on the remaining books. Laya climbed the step ladder for the upper shelf. David steadying the base. The feeling was oddly safe.
Don’t look up, she warned. If you drop this ladder, I’ll make you copy the Dewey chart 10 times. I’m holding steady. His calm voice came from right below. Trust me. She reached for Weathering Heights, muttering, “Why are the top shelves always the enemy of the short “Let me.” David took the heavy books effortlessly, sliding them into their designated places. “Fine.
Tall guy wins,” Lla conceded. As she stepped down, the space between them shrank. The scent of cocoa, his shirt, and the wooden shelves swirled together. Laya looked up, meeting his gray eyes at close range. Neither spoke, a heartbeat, then another. The yellow light skimmed his lashes. His hand, still braced on the ladder, ease slightly, as if reminding himself to give her space.
But his gaze didn’t waver. Laya felt the whole library collapse into the gap between them. Her heart pounded so loud she swore the shelves could hear. “David,” she whispered, testing the name. He leaned in slowly and deliberately, not rushing, just closing the distance. But just before their lips met, Laya jerked back slightly.
A flash of images raced through her. Roses every day. The cryptic words about worse Valentine’s. The flicker of sadness in his eyes when he’d read aloud. Something was unopened, something she didn’t yet know. She stepped back, clutching a book to her chest like a shield. “Sorry,” she said with a small smile. I’m not ready. I don’t know you well enough yet.
Silence, not awkward, but respectful. David nodded, retreating by the same step she’d taken. That’s fine. I’m not in a hurry. He said it like a promise, not consolation. Relief softened her chest. Thank you, she said sincerely. And thanks for reading, for shelving, for not spilling cocoa. My pleasure. They both laughed and the wall of awkwardness dropped a notch.
By 9:30, Laya dimmed the lights. The library returned to itsusual state of drowsiness. She walked David to the door. “I’ll stop by again tomorrow,” he said, hand resting on the glass frame. “No need to come everyday,” she protested quickly. “I still have to work, and too many roses will run me out of vases.
” “No promises,” David teased, eyes glinting. “But I’ll pace myself.” He stepped away, then turned back. “Oh, Laya, what? Don’t climb the top rung alone.” “Yes, sir. Ladder keeper,” she shot back lightly, though warmth bloomed inside. When she turned back to the counter, another book lay open. Inside, a fresh rose petal was pressed between the pages.
A tiny sticky note on the margin in neat handwriting. “No rush. Kindness repeated.” Laya touched the petal and smiled. She wasn’t ready for a kiss yet, but maybe she was ready for small steady gestures day after day. And somewhere between the scent of paper and the glow of yellow light, her long-kept loneliness stepped back another pace.
Still following the story. If this story found you outside of Soul Stories, we invite you home to where every touching tale begins with truth, hope, and heart. Saturday morning brought a rare patch of sunlight. Laya had arranged to meet David at a small corner cafe, the one with secondhand books stacked against the walls and a vase of red roses on the counter like a permanent greeting.
She arrived 10 minutes early, ordering herself hot cocoa, and for him an americano as dark as a New York winter sky. David walked in right on time, the door chime ringing as though synchronized with his watch. He sat across from her and sat down. A rose. Laya looked from the rose to him, figning annoyance, though her lips couldn’t quite hide a smile.
“You forgot something,” she teased. “Where’s the sappy note?” “Today’s note is no sap,” David replied. “Just good morning.” They sipped their drinks and talked about little things. “A photography exhibit at the museum, her weekend plan to teach kids reading, and how the cafe’s waffles should cut back on sugar.
” A suggestion from David, quickly vetoed by Laya, the cocoa addict. It was comfortable, ordinary in the best way, until the door opened again. Derek, white shirt, gray tie, that polished, successful lawyer, smile. The very image Laya had once known, trusted, and then broken over. His steps faltered when he saw her. His eyes flicked from her to David, lingering on the expensive watch and tailored suit.
Then back to her, sharp with calculation. “Well,” Derek said, tone pitched just a notch too high. “Lila, long time no see. Looks like you’ve been busy with a new life.” Laya set her cup down, calm. “Hello, Derek.” David tilted his head at the stranger, gray eyes cooling by a few degrees. He didn’t need an introduction. He already knew.
Derek’s smile thinned like a blade. I’d heard rumors but didn’t believe them. Turns out they’re true. From a plain librarian’s paycheck to dating a CEO. You moved up quickly. The air thickened. Even the barista glanced over. A couple of customers shifted their chairs, curiosity rising like smoke. David laid his fork down slowly. I think you should lower your voice.
Oh, pardon me, Mr. Derek pretended to recall. Hail, right? I’m just surprised. Laya used to be so dull, so unambitious. But it seems she’s found a different kind of ambition. Laya exhaled steady under the table, her fingers pressed into her palm. She could easily fire back. Three years of forgotten birthdays, dinners where he’d scrolled his emails instead of seeing her.
But she no longer cared to argue with the past about what was true. David stood. He didn’t raise his voice, but his gaze cut sharp as stone. You don’t have the right to insult her. Not here. Not in front of me. Derek sniffed. Ah, right. The rich love playing knights. But let me tell you, Sir Knight, the woman sitting across from you once said, “Books are life.
” I suppose now she’s discovered bank accounts are love. Enough. David leaned forward slightly, his jaw tightened. the dangerous signal of a fight tabloids would salivate over. Laya tugged lightly at his sleeve. David. He glanced down, anger still burning in his eyes. She turned to Derek, voice steady, almost detached. You’re talking to your ex, but it sounds like you’re really talking to yourself.
I hope you’re happy with your ambitious version of life, Derek. Derek gave a low, slow clapping once as if applauding her newfound steel. Then he looked at David. Good luck. A month is all it takes before women like her get bored of expensive dinners with no substance. Trust me with that,” he shrugged, pulled out his phone, and left behind a trail of cologne and disdain.
David remained standing, shoulders taught. Laya pulled him back down. “Don’t. I don’t need you to prove anything to him. He’s not worth it.” After a beat, David sat, unclenching his hand. “Sorry,” he said quietly. I can’t stand hearing anyone belittle you. I know. Her smile was faint but real. But sometimes the best way to win is not to play. He nodded,though the anger lingered.
I hate people who treat love like a scoreboard. Laya sipped her now cold cocoa, its sweetness suddenly clawing. In her mind, Derek’s sneer echoed. One month. One month. One month. Was she really just an experiment with an expiration date? They tried to salvage the morning. David changed the subject, mentioning a weekend reading program for kids at a shelter, catching himself before saying orphanage.
Laya nodded along, but her thoughts snagged on Derek’s barbs like a nail she couldn’t avoid. When they parted outside the cafe, David held her hand. If today upset you, I’ll handle it. I won’t let anyone hurt you. No need to handle anything. I’m fine,” she said. And for the most part, it was true.
But in her head, that neon word kept flashing. One month. One month. One month. By noon, back at the library, Jenny waved from across the room. Oh my god, you’ve just been promoted to top gossip material in town. Laya groaned. That bad, huh? Jenny leaned close, lowering her voice like a spy. A friend of a friend.
Don’t ask who was at the cafe, said Derek put on quite the monologue. But tell me, how do you feel? My feelings are. Laya glanced at the rose David had left in a tiny vase on the counter, blooming quietly. Mixed. Jenny nodded knowingly. You’re wondering if you’re just a CEO’s passing amusement. Laya gave a crooked smile.
Word travels fast. No need for rumors. I can read it on your forehead,” Jenny said, tapping it. Then her voice softened. “Listen, forget what people say. What matters is how he looks at you today. What did he do?” He stood, got angry, then sat back down when I told him not to prove himself. “Exactly,” Jenny winked.
“If you were just an amusement, he would have put on a show for the audience.” But he listened to you. Laya laughed despite herself. You’re wiser than you look. Wiser than Derek ever was, that’s for sure. Jenny huffed, pushing White Horse toward the shelves. Now get back to shelving. Books never asked if it’s one month or forever.
That afternoon, when Laya opened her locker, another rose dropped out as always. She picked it up, turning it over. No card, no flourish, just like they’d agreed. Usually, it made her smile. Today, it stung. What if someday soon the roses simply stopped? Her phone buzzed. A message from David. Are you free tonight? I want to take you somewhere.
She stared at the screen, typed where erased it, typed I’m tired, erased that, too. Finally, she sent, “Can we do another night?” The typing dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. Then his reply, “Of course. Rest early.” The very gentleness of his words pressed on her chest like a weight. That night, she lined the roses into a large vase.
Their fragrance filled the room. She turned off the main light, leaving only her desk lamp. The glow caught the petals like sparks of fire. She opened her notebook and wrote one line. “I don’t need to prove myself to him, but I do need answers for me.” Closing the book, she leaned against her pillow with a sigh.
Outside the city glittered like an invitation. Inside her heart was both warm and uneasy, like someone walking a bridge just built, trusting the wood, but fearing the loose nails. At the far end of that bridge might be David, or a finish line marked one month. Pulling the blanket to her chin, she closed her eyes.
Tomorrow would bring a new day, and with it another rose. But between the roses, she knew she must repeat one thing, asking questions and waiting for answers. Not just from him, but from her own heart. That night, after a long shift at the library, Laya spotted David’s familiar figure crossing the street. He didn’t notice her waiting at the bus stop across the way.
His stride was brisk, his tall frame swallowed by the dim light of a narrow alley. A strange impulse tugged at her, pulling her to follow. He stopped in front of a weathered brick building, its signs swinging on rusted chains. Hope House orphanage. Laya’s heart clenched. Through the lit windows, she saw David seated among a circle of children.
He held up a comic book, reading in a warm, steady voice, adding playful tones for each character. The children’s laughter filled the room bright and unrestrained. After story time, he handed out small gift bags, notebooks, crayons, gently used stuffed animals, little arms wrapped around him, voices shouting, “Uncle David!” Their eyes shone as if he had given them the whole sky.
The man the city called the ICE CEO was here, patiently reading stories to orphans. Laya’s throat tightened. When David finally stepped out, he caught her gaze in the shadowy hall. He froze for a second, then gestured for her to follow him into the back courtyard. The courtyard was quiet, lit only by a rusted swing set and scattered moonlight.
David stood with his hands in his pockets, silent for a long while before speaking. “I grew up here.” Yla’s eyes widened. I don’t know who my parents were. My birth certificate doesn’t even list names. As far back asI can remember, this was home. And I hated holidays. His voice was low, each word heavy with memory. Valentine’s, Christmas, birthdays.
For most people, they mean joy. For me, they were magnifying glasses for loneliness. Every holiday, other kids’ sponsors came to visit with cakes, cards, and hugs. And I sat alone in my room, listening to laughter echo down the hall. Christmas had a tree, but no present ever bore the name David.
Valentine’s was just another night on a steel bed, waiting for a miracle that never came. Laya’s eyes burned. She pictured little David, the orphan boy, sitting in the dark. He gave a hollow chuckle. I got used to the emptiness until I met her. David sat on the swing, eyes fixed on the ground. My first love, the first girl who made me believe I wasn’t alone anymore.
She laughed easily, was gentle. She felt like the missing piece my heart had longed for. He paused, sighing. I gave everything to that love, trust, care, everything. And 7 years ago on Valentine’s Day, I decided to propose. Yayla’s chest tightened. I booked the finest restaurant I could afford, bought a ring, practiced my speech.
I asked her to meet me at 7. I waited as every door opened, every couple entered, and every bouquet and box of chocolates passed me by. I waited until the staff cleared the tables, until the lights went out. All night she never came. David, Laya whispered. The next day, I found out she had gone with someone richer.
Just a short message. Sorry, I chose a different path. His gray eyes hardened. On Valentine’s Day, the night I thought would change my life. Silence pressed down, broken only by the wind rustling the leaves. Valentine’s, he said slowly, has been the day I hated most. But it’s also the day I refuse to let anyone else feel abandoned.
I won’t let anyone sit alone, empty the way I once did. That’s why I put the rose on your table that night, and why I’ve left one every day since. Laya stepped closer, sitting beside him. She took his hand, still trembling faintly in hers. David, I had no idea. I don’t tell people. They expect a CEO to be cold, controlled, and never weak.
The truth is, I was just a boy who was left behind and a man who waited all night for a love that never returned. Her grip tightened, eyes shimmering. You don’t have to hide from me. I understand. He looked at her. the hardness in his gaze softening. This is the first time I’ve spoken it aloud and it feels lighter.
Laya rested her head gently against his shoulder. Her voice was soft. This Valentine’s. At least you’re not alone anymore. David didn’t answer, but his hand closed more firmly around hers, and in his eyes for the first time glimmered a spark of belief that maybe the roses weren’t just to keep the dark away, but to lead him towards something new.
a Valentine’s Day that didn’t hurt. Monday morning, the Cambridge University Library no longer felt like Laya’s refuge. The moment she stepped inside, a whirlwind named Jenny grabbed her. In her friend’s hands lay a tabloid magazine. Its headline a blade stabbing straight into Yla’s chest. ICE CEO Hail secretly dating ordinary librarian. True love or gold digger.
Beneath it, a photo captured her and David under the Valentine’s lights. The cruel angle turned the tender moment into something garish, as if she were greedily reaching for riches. The article crowned her with the title, “Unknown woman fishing for a billionaire, warping a beautiful evening into a cheap act.” Jenny’s teeth ground.
Those journalists deserve a lifetime ban from borrowing books. Laya could only swallow hard bitterness filling her throat. She knew this was how a scandal began. All day she couldn’t breathe. Every footstep, every glance, every whisper behind her felt like needles piercing her skin. Isn’t that the girl? It’s all over the internet.
By the time she opened her phone, the real storm had hit. Social media swarmed with poisonous comments. Lucky girl straight to the top overnight. Gold digger. Obviously, a man like David has plenty of choices. Just a one-mon fling, then he’ll drop her. Her vision blurred. Dererick’s cruel words echoed.
You chose well, didn’t you? No, I’m not like that. But who would believe her? That evening, when David came to pick her up, her hands were still trembling. He entered with the same calm composure, as though the outside world’s noise meant nothing. His serenity clashed with the storm raging in her. “David, did you read the news today?” “Yes,” he answered simply.
“And you’re not bothered? They’re calling me a gold digger, saying I’m clinging to you. They’re wrong. I know that. But people won’t believe it. Laya’s voice cracked. All they see is you, the wealthy CEO, and me, a plain librarian. It’s too easy a story to brand. I don’t want to drag you into this mess.
David’s silence pressed against her. Then he stepped closer, lowering himself so their eyes locked. Do you want to run away, Laya? Her lip quivered, tears brimming. Idon’t want to be a burden to you. For a moment, the gray in his eyes flared into fire. He caught her hand firmly, his voice deep and resolute. Listen carefully, Laya. You are not a burden.
You are the reason I believe love is real. Her heart stopped. I’ve lived too many years in emptiness, he continued, each word striking like a nail into her soul. I thought money and power were the only shields against abandonment. But you, the woman who dared to set rules like no luxury, no contracts.
You proved real feelings still exist. If I gave you up because of cheap headlines, I’d be nothing but the hollow shell I used to be. His voice cracked slightly. And I don’t want to go back there. Laya stood frozen, tears spilling freely. A shaky laugh escaped her lips. You realize that sounded ridiculously corny? “Then let it be corny,” he murmured, a faint smile curving his lips.
“If it keeps you with me, I’ll say it a thousand times.” She nodded through her tears, clutching his hand tighter. All the whispers, the cruel comments, the tabloids melted away in that moment. Outside, the city lights flickered to life. A breeze brushed past, making the rose in her hand tremble. David remained beside her, his grip steady, his silent vow echoing louder than any promise spoken.
Laya looked up at him, her heart finally answering what she had long denied. I trust him. One year later, Seattle was dressed for Valentine’s again, heart-shaped balloons lining the streets, chocolates sold by the pound, couples in matching scarlet outfits marching like a small army. Stepping out of the library, Laya muttered under her breath, “Cupid, do you always have to go overboard?” She smoothed down her simple blue dress, determined not to look like a tomato in the sea of red and pink.
David arrived right on time. He wore his usual tailored black suit, but clipped to his pocket was a pink heart-shaped paperclip. Laya blinked. “Did a colleague stick that on you?” “No, I put it there myself,” David said completely straightfaced. to fit the theme. Just in case you couldn’t spot me in the Valentine’s crowd. Right.
Because a 6-ft tall CEO in a black suit is so easily confused with undergrads carrying Pikachu backpacks. She shot back. He shrugged. Better safe than sorry. They headed to an elegant downtown restaurant. When the host opened the door, Laya froze. She knew this place. David. She turned to him. This is the restaurant, isn’t it? Yes.
he admitted, calm face, though his ears flushed faintly. I want to rewrite that memory, replace it with something better. In her mind, she saw him waiting alone 7 years ago. Her heart softened, but her lips still teased. All right, but this time, I won’t make you wait from 7:00 p.m. until dawn.
I’m very punctual unless I’m stuck in traffic or the neighbor’s cat steals my dinner.” He chuckled, relief flickering across his face. Dinner was cozy. steak, cream of mushroom soup, and a bottle of red wine. Laya happily munched on garlic bread while David seemed unusually tense. His fingers tapped the table like Morse code. “Are you signaling a satellite distress call?” Laya arched a brow.
“No, I’m just focused,” David said, his voice a little rough. “If this is how you focus, your employees must be thrilled.” When dessert arrived, the lights dimmed, leaving only candle light. A waiter approached and set a single red rose before Yla. She stared, then laughed softly. Oh my god. Again. I’ve had enough to start a rose shop by now.
But this time, David didn’t just place the flower down. He rose from his chair, circled the table, and knelt. The restaurant fell silent. A violinist melody rose in the background. Last Valentine’s, he said, voice steady. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone. this year. He opened a small velvet box.
I want to make sure you’ll never be alone again. A collective gasp rippled through the room. Someone muttered. Great. Now my wife will expect this, too. Laya covered her mouth, eyes shining. David, are you sure? He nodded, gaze unwavering. I’m more certain than I am about Seattle raining tomorrow. That earned a laugh from the nearby tables.
Laya sniffled, half laughing through her tears. You realize this proposal is incredibly cheesy. I know, but if cheesy gets me you, I’ll be cheesy forever. A wet laugh burst from her. You make me want to say yes and also stuff this napkin in your mouth. David grinned. Then say yes first. Taking a deep breath, Laya nodded hard. Yes, I will.
Applause thundered through the restaurant. Some diners stood cheering. A waiter nearly dropped his tray from excitement. Someone shouted, “Kiss her.” David pulled Laya up, wrapping her in his arms. His kiss was gentle but sure, drawn out by the cheers around them. When they finally broke apart, Laya whispered, eyes glistening.
“Just so you know, if tomorrow’s headline is,” cheesy CEO proposes in restaurant, I’m sending you the link every morning. He pressed his forehead against hers, smiling. ThenI’ll frame it and hang it in my office. Their laughter melted into another kiss while the applause rolled on. Their wedding morning didn’t begin with church bells or flashy car horns, but with something very ila.
She woke early, made herself a hot cocoa, and sat down to check the wedding list like she was preparing for a library opening. Dress hanging on the wardrobe door, perfectly wrinkle-free, guarded by Jenny like a lion protecting its treasure. flowers, red roses, of course, their emblem of true love. Rings safely with David. Laya didn’t dare keep them.
Too many bookshelves meant too much chance of losing them in a novel forever. Everything else in order, except her heart, which beat like it had just swallowed a marching band. In the mirror, her hair was neatly pinned with a single red rose behind her ear, a reminder of last year’s very first rose. She no longer saw the extra at Valentine’s, but the heroine of a love story she once never dared to dream.
The wedding was held in the most meaningful place. The garden behind Hope House, the orphanage where David had grown up. Fairy lights strung across the trees sparkled. Wooden chairs lined the aisle. No red carpet, just a walkway scattered with petals collected by the children themselves.
A colorful, haphazard blend, beautiful in its honesty. The kids couldn’t contain their excitement. Dressed in white shirts, twirling skirts, shiny shoes, their faces glowed brighter than ice cream day. The flower tossing squad had been warned. Throw gently or the bride won’t see the way. 5 minutes later, they were hurling petals like fireworks, making the whole crowd laugh.
Agnes, the longtime caretaker, sat in the front row, dabbing her eyes. The boy who once refused to sleep without the light on is now somebody’s husband. Beside her, Jenny whispered, eyes wet. And father figure to a whole orphanage. David appeared in his black suit, but with a pink heart-shaped paperclip pinned to his lapel, a quiet nod to the contracts they’d once joked about. The kids gasped.
Uncle David is cool and cute. Then the music swelled. Laya walked slowly down the aisle of pedals. Children’s jaws dropped. David forgot to breathe. And in that instant, every lonely Valentine of his past was erased under the glow of the garden lights. The ceremony was disarmingly simple. No doves, no sparklers, just vows and the people who truly loved them.
The officient was an elderly minister who used to read stories to the children at Hope House. Smiling warmly, he announced. Today, our oversized boy, the kids giggled, “Has found the family he longed for, and our librarian has found the man who will shove life’s books beside her.” He winked. “Have you prepared your vows?” David nodded, eyes on Laya.
“I promise never to sign a contract for our love. Instead, I’ll sign every day with small acts. Making Coco just right, holding the ladder when you climb too high, and keeping a spot free for your neverending book collection. Jenny cheered. That’s my man. Laya’s turn, voice trembling, but eyes shining. She said, “I promise not to find you if your heart is overdue.
” Laughter rippled. She went on softer. I’ll remind you to wear a coat when you pretend you’re not cold, to eat breakfast when you pretend you’re full, and to remember Valentine’s can be gentle because now you have me. The minister chuckled. That’ll do. When it came to the rings, David nearly dropped the box from sweaty hands.
Jenny whispered, “Look, the CEO’s nervous,” making a boy next to her flash a thumbs up. The ring slid into place. Handmade confetti rained down as applause roared. You may kiss the bride,” the minister said. Their kiss wasn’t long, nor dramatic, just steady, serious, and deeply true. The reception was a cozy buffet, spaghetti because once she had eaten it alone on Valentine’s, cookies shaped like books, and a cake topped with fresh roses.
David served cake to a little girl. “Which piece do you want?” “The biggest heart one,” she declared gravely. He cut the center slice and handed it over as though crowning her chairwoman of the kids’ council. A boy tugged at Laya’s dress. “Are you our mom now?” she knelt, hugging him. “I’m Miss Laya, but if you want bedtime stories, I’ll be your storyteller.
Read Harry Potter,” he demanded. “Deal, but spaghetti first. You need strength to get to Hogwarts.” Agnes wrapped Laya’s shoulder. You know, he used to fake being fine every holiday. Today, he doesn’t have to pretend. Laya’s throat achd. She squeezed Agnes’s hand, then came dancing. David held out his hand.
“May I have this dance, Libran, of my heart?” She laughed, slipping her hand into his. They swayed under the fairy lights, other couples joining in. “Are you happy?” he whispered. “Yes,” she murmured against his shoulder. happy enough to need tomorrow off just to keep smiling. HR approves, he teased. New house rule. A kiss every morning before work.
And a bedtime story every night, she added. If I lose my voice, we’ll sign a contract.Wife reads, husband listens. No penalties, she grinned. At sunset, the lights glowed brighter. Children dashed around. One slipped, but David caught him just in time. Uncle David’s a superhero,” the boy shouted. “Superheroes still do the dishes,” Laya quipped, and laughter rippled through the garden.
When it came time to toss the bouquet, Laya whispered to Jenny. “I want to do it differently.” She returned to the center, roses in hand. “Who wants to take these home?” she asked. “Me. Me?” Little voice’s chorus. She broke the bouquet into smaller bunches with Agnes and Jenny’s help. These aren’t just for looking pretty. They’re reminders. You are all loved.
Each child clutched a tiny bouquet as if it were a treasure. One girl whispered to Laya, “I’ll keep mine by my bed and smell it every night.” David watched, his eyes glistening, a rare sight. He leaned in and murmured. “Thank you for turning our bouquet into many. A big family needs many flowers,” she winked.
As the night wound down, warmth lingered like cocoa in the air. David and Laya sat on the garden steps, fairy lights twinkling above, children dozing against each other inside. David held her hand. I used to hate holidays. Today, I see it wasn’t the day itself. It was whether you had someone to share it with.
Print that on a book cover, Laya teased, though I’d edit one word, someone, plural. Because I have you and a whole kid army. He pressed his forehead to hers. Let’s go home. Our home. Let’s, she whispered, hooking her pinky around his in their signature. No contract contract. Before leaving, she looked back. The fairy lights, the scattered pedals, the mess of chairs and laughter. Chaotic, but warm.
She smiled to herself and to the story that had brought her here. She deserved more. And she found it not only in love, but in the family they built
