They drove to a small diner on the edge of town—one Grandpa used to take us to. I watched from a distance, heart pounding, as Noah pulled out Nana’s chair and sat across from her. She laughed, touched his hand gently, and for a terrifying second, I thought… was I being betrayed?
But then I overheard pieces of their conversation.
“She still talks about him in her sleep sometimes,” Nana said softly. “She misses her parents more than she admits.”
Noah nodded. “That’s why I wanted to do this. I just… I want her to feel surrounded by love, even when she doesn’t realize it.”
They met every Thursday so she wouldn’t eat alone. He listened to her stories, learned my childhood favorites, and asked about Grandpa just to keep his memory alive for her.
I stood there, tears blurring my vision.
Later that night, I told Noah what I’d seen. He just smiled and said, “I love you. And I love where you come from.”
Lesson: Sometimes love shows up in the quietest ways—through kindness done in secret, not for credit, but for care. True love doesn’t just hold your heart; it holds the people who made you who you are.
