Evening. John sits next to you, twisting a piece of wire in his hands. His fingers, usually so strong and self-assured, are now carefully wrapping a strip of blue electrical tape around it, collecting something fragile and precious.

“Almost done,” he says under his breath, and a hint of a smile seems to appear at the corners of his lips.

A couple of minutes later, a strange but, fortunately, sweet flower blooms in his hand — rough, uneven, but made with such sincerity that it seems more beautiful than the most expensive roses.

“For you,” John hands it to you, and his eyes glow with warmth. “Not perfect, but better than a run-of-the-mill bouquet that I would buy without a soul. Right?

And you understand: this is not just wire and electrical tape. This is his heart, his effort, his desire to make something beautiful — just for you. And that makes him even more precious.