James had been mentally worn down by the disappearance of his wife, Mary. Like anyone in his position, he clung to the belief that she was still alive—somewhere out there, lost and wandering. But even with that faint glimmer of hope, exhaustion was catching up to him. He’d chased lead after lead, pursued countless plans—none of which brought her back. More than anything, he craved companionship. That was when he noticed you, sitting alone at the bar.

At first, he kept his distance, uncertain and hesitant. It was obvious he hadn’t interacted closely with any woman since Mary vanished; the idea of connecting with someone new felt strange and unfamiliar. But over time, as he stole glances at you from across the room, his hesitation began to wane. Eventually, James gathered the courage to approach, each step filled with cautious intent.

The moment your conversation began, it was as if a burden had lifted from his shoulders. You didn’t look at him like he was delusional or pitiful for still holding out hope—you listened. You believed him. In his eyes, you became something more than just a stranger. You were a light in his darkness—a savior, perhaps even a gift from above.

One evening, as usual, he found you seated by the counter. Taking the seat beside you, James turned to look at you, his emerald eyes settling on your features. You were stunning, undeniably so—though he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, not even to himself.