Chapter 20: A day of small miracles

The morning light slipped between the blinds, brushing against my face. I stretched, half expecting the quiet to be empty, but there on the nightstand lay a folded note and a single white rose in a glass.

My name was written in Sean’s slanted handwriting.

“Good morning. Have a beautiful day and Remember that I love you.”

For a second I just stared, feeling the words sink in. I pressed the paper to my chest, exhaling slowly. “O heavens,” I whispered. “Don’t get too excited.” But my heart didn’t listen.

I got dressed quickly, cream blouse, dark jeans, hair tied up loosely and went downstairs to the reception desk to drop off some forms for my lease. The receptionist, an older woman named Darlene, smiled as I approached.

“Good morning, rose,” she said. “Actually, there’s something about your file.”

My stomach tightened. “Something wrong with the payment?”

“Not wrong, exactly,” Darlene said, tapping the computer. “you own that apartment and it's bought.”

“What? By who?”

She checked again, eyes widening a little. “A Mr. Sean Miller. He’s transferred ownership. The apartment’s in your name now.”

I blinked at her. “He… bought it?”

She nodded. “Signed and confirmed this morning. Congratulations.”

I thanked her quietly, walked back toward the elevator, and tried to breathe. I had no words. I clutched my phone like it might explain everything, and as if on cue it buzzed with a message from Sean.

“I’m hungry. Cook something nice and bring it to my office. I want everyone here to see my future wife.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. Future wife. I couldn’t even type for a moment. Finally, I sent back a single line:

“You’re impossible. Give me an hour.”

In the kitchen I worked quickly, roasted chicken with herbs, fresh salad, and soft rolls. The smell filled the apartment, comforting and real.

I packed the food carefully into containers and took a cab to his office by the waterfront.

Sean’s building gleamed like glass and steel under the late-morning sun. Inside, the receptionist already knew my name. “Mr. Miller is expecting you,” she said, gesturing toward the elevator.

When the doors opened on the top floor, Sean was there waiting, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy. His whole face lit up when he saw me.

“You cooked,” he said, taking the bag from my hand.

“You asked,” I replied. “I deliver.”

He grinned. “Come on. I reserved the little conference room next to my office.”

The room overlooked the beach, waves sparkling through the tall windows. He laid out the food while I arranged the plates. For a moment it didn’t feel like an office at all, just the two of us stealing an afternoon from the world.

“This looks amazing,” he said, inhaling the aroma.

“Don’t flatter me too early,” I teased. “Taste first.”

He took a bite, closed his eyes, and hummed in satisfaction. “Marry me right now.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You can’t propose with a mouth full of food.”

“Then I’ll swallow faster.” He reached for my hand across the table, holding it firmly. His thumb traced lazy circles on my skin. “You have no idea how happy I am right now, Rose.”

I met his gaze, steady and soft.

“I like seeing that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re pretending not to smile.”

I gave in then, smiling fully. “Maybe.”

He leaned back, still holding my hand. “After lunch, let’s get out of here. Just the park, nothing fancy. I don’t want to waste this day.”

“You have work.”

“I have assistants. They’ll survive.”

We cleaned up together, he insisted on washing the dishes himself in the tiny kitchenette and then we left the building. The afternoon was mild, the kind that makes the air smell clean and bright.

We walked down to the seaside park nearby, where kids chased kites and older couples strolled hand in hand.

Sean bought us two ice creams from a vendor and handed me one. “Strawberry for you, right?”

I nodded. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything you like,” he said simply.

We found a spot under a wide oak tree. I took off my sandals and stretched my legs on the grass. Sean sat beside me, propping himself on one elbow, watching the ocean.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said.

I thought for a second. “I used to collect seashells when I was little. I thought each one held a secret from the sea.”

He smiled. “That’s poetic. Mine’s boring.”

“Try me.”

“I can’t sleep without noise,” he said. “TV, music, something. Silence drives me crazy.”

“Noted,” I said. “I’ll blast the news if you ever stay over.”

We fell into easy talk, favorite movies, worst foods, odd childhood stories. He told me about sneaking into his father’s garage to build model planes;

I told him about getting in trouble for climbing the neighbor’s fence to rescue a cat.

At some point I leaned back against him, my head resting on his thighs. The breeze carried the faint smell of salt and sun warmed grass. Sean’s fingers brushed through my hair absent-mindedly.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Too comfortable,” I murmured.

He laughed quietly. “Good."

We stayed like that for a long time, watching the sky change color. People passed, couples laughed, dogs barked, but our little circle of quiet didn’t break.

I turned my head slightly, looking up at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he said.

I reached up and touched his hand. “Thank you. Really for the apartment. ”

He smiled, eyes soft. “I like seeing you happy. That’s all.”

For a while we just sat there, neither of us needing to speak. The waves kept rolling, rhythmic and endless. When I finally looked up again, the sky had deepened into gold.

“We should go,” I said. “It’s getting late.”

“Five more minutes,” he murmured. “I want to enjoy this moment. "

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. The gesture was simple, but it carried weight, as if it sealed something unspoken between us.

When we finally stood, he offered his hand. “Dinner?”

“I’m still full,” I said. “Maybe coffee.”

“There’s a café across the street.”

We walked there together, the evening settling around us. Inside, the smell of roasted beans filled the air. We sat by the window, each with a steaming cup.

Sean stirred his slowly. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” I said.

“About?”

“About how fast everything’s changing.”

He reached across the table again, fingers brushing mine. “Then let’s take it slow. But I’m not letting you go.”

I looked at him, trying to keep my tone even. “You’re serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious.”

I took a sip of coffee to steady myself. “You know I don’t want to rush anything.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said. “Just don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t,” I said.

He smiled, relief flickering in his eyes. “Good.”

When he drove me back home, the city lights were blooming across the horizon. He walked me up to my door and paused.

“I'll be heading home now,” he said quietly.

“okay, see you .”

“Then I’ll say goodnight to you properly.”

He kissed me, slower this time, careful. When he pulled back, his voice was soft. “Sleep well, Mrs. Almost-Mine.”

I shook my head, hiding a smile. “Goodnight.”

After he left, I leaned against the door for a moment, trying to catch my breath. The room felt different now, I miss him. I set his note back on the nightstand where I’d found it that morning.

The day had been beautiful. I crawled into bed, the sound of the waves faint through the open window, and let the memory of his hand in mine carry me into sleep.