An Unexpected Proposal
A few days later, I saw her again — this time near the old gas station on the other side of town. She sat curled up against the cold, shivering, the same faraway look in her eyes.
I brought her some hot soup and sat beside her on the curb. She told me her name was Hannah. She had no family, no home, and had been drifting from town to town for years — surviving on kindness and scraps.
Something inside me — something buried under years of silence — stirred. I couldn’t explain it. Maybe pity. Maybe fate. Or maybe the simple, aching truth that she made me feel alive again.
Before I even realized what I was saying, the words left my mouth:
“If you’d like… marry me. I’m not rich, but I can give you a home. A bed. Warm meals. You’ll never have to sleep in the cold again.”
For a long moment, she just stared at me — stunned, as if unsure whether I was joking. Passersby threw me puzzled looks. One man laughed outright. But I didn’t care.
Days later, she said yes.
