My Hero's Final Words

The rich scent of latte drifted from the corner cafe, sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting mottled shadows across the wooden table. I stood at the doorway, clutching the hem of my clothes, while the matchmaker was already inside, waving to me. "This is Linda Scott," the matchmaker said with a smile, pulling me down to sit before turning to the man across from us. "Linda, this is Daniel Lewis, the one I told you about." I looked up; the man wore a dark gray coat, the cuffs smooth and faintly shining from frequent rubbing. His hair was neatly trimmed, his features sharp, but his eyes carried a subtle, almost imperceptible weariness. "Hello." I spoke first, my voice lighter than I had expected. "Hello." He replied, his voice low and rough, like sandpaper gently rubbing, without much emotion. For the next half hour, I was almost the only one keeping the conversation going. "What kind of work do you usually do when you're away?" "Managing projects." He answered briefly. "Do you like sweets? This place is known for its cake." "It's okay." I awkwardly stirred the coffee in front of me, the foam leaving a faint ring on the cup's edge. Just as I thought this blind date would end in silence, he suddenly spoke. "From now on, you might have to handle more of the household matters." As he said this, his fingers unconsciously tightened around the coffee cup handle, his knuckles turning pale. I was momentarily stunned, then nodded. At that time, I didn't have many romantic expectations about marriage; I just thought that the man in front of me looked honest and reliable, someone with whom I could live a steady life—that was enough.