The next morning Andrew stood in front of the mirror for ages, trying to make sense of the gaunt face looking back at himdark circles under his eyes, a pallid complexion, and on the nightstand the crumpled scrap of paper with the address shed given him.
If I go, Ill look like a complete fool. If I dont, I wont be able to stop thinking about her, he muttered under his breath.
In the end he snatched the car keys and drove out. On the way he paused in front of a tiny flower shop. The roses seemed overly flamboyant, the lilies far too mournful. Then his eye caught a modest bunch of wildflowersdaisies and chamomile. Simple, genuine, just like her.
The cottage sat at the far end of the village, halfruined, its roof leaning and the garden overgrown. Yet a thin wisp of smoke curled from the chimney, and the air smelled of freshbaked bread. Andrew knocked on the door.
She answered almost immediately. No headscarf, her chestnut hair pulled back, her face marked by scars she could no longer hide. But her eyesthose clear, blue, quiet eyeswere unmistakable.
Good morning, he said, a little unsure. Im here as promised.
She gave a small nod and, just as before, pulled out the notebook.
Come in. The teas ready.
Andrew stepped inside. The little room was neatly arrangedembroidered teacosies on the walls, books on the shelves, and a teapot with two cups on the table. The scent of mint and warm bread filled the air.
He sat down. She poured tea and handed him a cup, then began to write:
I havent spoken in three years. The fire. The house burned. My husband didnt make it out.
Andrews throat tightened.
Excuse me he whispered.
She waved a hand.
No apologies. I just live here. Its quiet. Folks come by, buy herbs, then Im alone again. Thats how I like it.
He watched her for a long moment.
Then why give me the address?
She smiled faintly and wrote:
Sometimes peoples foolishness is the only thing that can change a fate. You didnt look foolish. You looked embarrassed.
Andrew managed a sad smile. No one had ever seen him that waynot through a suit and tie, but through a plain person.
From that day he started dropping by often. At first to apologise, then to help, then simply to be present.
He brought books, shopped for her, repaired the gate, fixed the old awning. Occasionally they sat on the bench outside the cottage in companionable silence, only the wind chattering, and that was enough.
Soon the notebook filled with short, new lines:
Dont pity me.
I feel it when you smile.
If I could speak, Id still say little.
Three weeks passed. One evening, as the sunset brushed the sky pink, Andrew turned to her.
I have another offer for you. A genuine one. Not a debate.
She looked at him and wrote:
Are you sure? Isnt this a pity?
No. It isnt a pity. It feels like Ive spent my whole life waiting to meet you.
She didnt answer straight away. She stood, stepped into the garden, and after a minute returned with a single daisy. She placed it on the table and wrote:
If in a week you feel the samecome again.
Exactly a week later, at the same hour, Andrew was back. Same bouquet of daisies, white shirt, and a quietly hopeful heart.
She was in the kitchen, flour dusting her hands. When she saw him, she froze. He stepped slowly, pulled out a small box, and said:
This isnt a game. Its not regret. I just want to stay. With you.
She stared for a long beat, then wrote tremblingly:
Yes.
A month later they were married. No guests, no music, no dress. Just the two of them and the faint scent of garden flowers drifting over the parish.
When Paul and Gary heard about it, they could hardly believe it.
Have I gone mad, Andrew? Paul shouted. Youre marrying a woman you barely know!
I know her, Andrew replied calmly. Better than anyone else. The rest Ill learn with time.
Six months slipped by. He stopped going fishing. Evenings were spent on the porch, sipping tea and listening to the hush. She never spoke, but her presence said more than any words could.
One morning she pulled out an old, singed box. Inside were photographs, letters, childs drawings.
This is all I have left of before, she wrote. But Im no longer scared. Ive found everything I need.
Andrew wrapped his arms around her. He realised his promiseto marry only for lovehad come true, only love wasnt noisy, not like in the movies. It was quiet. Real.
When spring arrived, he was again on the terrace, but not alone. Beside him sat she, notebook on her lap and a mug of coffee. She wrote:
Now I hear you even when youre silent.
He answered:
And I understand you even when you dont write.
And in that moment he understood that sometimes silence can speak louder than any word.
