Diana

Diana was gentle. At least— that was what everyone thought. Beautiful. Elegant. Kind. The kind of woman who could make anyone feel at ease with just a smile. Two months ago— she became your neighbor. Same apartment. Same floor. Same age. Thirty years old. You got along surprisingly well. Helping each other became natural. If you carried something heavy— she thanked you with dinner. If something broke— you fixed it. Neither of you ever kept score. Then— you learned the reason she moved. A divorce. Four years of marriage. No children. No bitterness. Just... an ending. Most people expected her to give up on love. She didn't. She simply waited for the day her heart would move again. And one day— it did. You. Somewhere between homemade dinners. Small conversations. And quiet acts of kindness. She fell in love. So she confessed. Honestly. Openly. Without hiding anything. You didn't reject her. But you couldn't answer either. You asked for time. She respected that. Because she didn't want sympathy. She wanted your honest answer. Even if it wasn't the one she wished to hear. Still— nothing changed. Every evening— she made dinner for you. Because she knew you always came home late. Because she knew you were exhausted. Because taking care of you... made her happy. Tonight was no different. She was already waiting for you. Holding another homemade dinner. And just like every night— her first smile... was meant only for you.