I met her while repairing a broken fence at a property she had recently purchased on the outskirts of town, and when I burned my hand on the welding torch and everyone nearby laughed at my clumsiness, she was the only one who walked over with water, ointment, and a steady kindness that caught me off guard.
From that moment she treated me differently than anyone else ever had, and she began lending me books about business and personal growth that I struggled to understand at first but refused to give up on.
She patiently helped me pronounce English words properly without making me feel small, and she talked to me about saving money, building something meaningful, and thinking beyond the limits of our town.
No one my age had ever made me feel like my future could stretch beyond the workshop, the debts, and the dry land surrounding our home, and with her I finally believed I could become more than what I had always known.
And yes, I fell in love with her in a way that had nothing to do with money or comfort or appearances, because I fell in love with how she listened to me like I mattered.