There was an immediate, disarming gravity to him. He wasn’t like the men she’d dated before—men who filled silences with noise and bravado. Steve listened. When she spoke of her mundane job as an accountant, his gaze never wavered, as if her balance sheets were the most fascinating stories he’d ever heard. They talked for hours, a bubble of quiet conversation amidst the cheerful din. He spoke of his love for classic cars and fishing, but when she gently probed about his past family life, a shadow flickered in his eyes, a momentary closing of a door she didn’t yet know existed.

That first conversation bled into a dinner invitation, which blossomed into a whirlwind romance. For six months, Amber felt the walls of her fortress crumbling brick by brick. Steve was her anchor. He was steady, reliable, and his love was an uncomplicated, comforting warmth. He’d mentioned in passing that he had a daughter, Stacy, but the topic was always tinged with a sadness she didn’t dare push. She assumed it was the result of a difficult divorce and respected his privacy, content in the beautiful present they were building.