I handed her a glass of lemon water, and she looked up at me. Her eyes were so clear that it felt like they could reflect the entire night sky.
“Thanks,” she said.
As she took the glass, her fingers brushed the back of my hand, and I felt like electricity shot through me.
After that night, we started talking regularly.
She loved hearing the funny stories I told about work, and I loved watching her paint, so focused, so peaceful.
She used to say my voice made her feel safe, and her smile became my favorite part of every day.
Six months later, I finally worked up the courage to confess my feelings.
She blushed and said yes.
Our relationship didn’t start off easy.
Her parents were firmly against it, especially her father. He thought I was just a regular office worker from the countryside, not good enough for his precious daughter.
But Tracy was stubborn to the core.
She stood her ground, even went so far as to move out despite having a row with her family. In the end, we squeezed into a tiny rented apartment just to be together.
Resting her head on my shoulder, she whispered one night, “As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”