**An Ordinary Miracle**
We were back at that little café on the corner of the old neighbourhood—Emily and William.
She was tall and elegant, with stubborn strands of dark hair that never stayed put, always escaping from clips and ties, as if reminding everyone she was alive, real.
He was a sturdy man with tired but kind eyes, soft wrinkles at the corners from genuine laughter, the kind that leaves no trace of restraint. Silver had begun threading through his temples, but it only made him look distinguished.
They sat across from each other, as if time had paused. He stirred exactly two spoons of sugar into her coffee, knowing she’d want it just so. She twisted a paper napkin between her fingers, rolling it into a tight little spiral.
They looked so natural together, as if they’d never been apart. But I knew—behind those glances lay an entire lifetime of choices, pain, uncertainty… and love.
“Emily, how did you two meet?” I once asked, unable to resist.
She glanced at William, as if asking permission. He nodded.
“I’d just started at the bank,” she began, eyes lowering. “Everything was new, terrifying… and he…” She smiled faintly.
“And I was the arrogant department manager,” William cut in with a smirk.
Emily shook her head. “He was unbearable. All the girls went quiet when he walked in. Expensive suit, perfect posture, that stare… But he only ever looked at me.”
“In a navy-blue suit and a dimple when he smiled,” William added softly. “You laughed so brightly the whole room lit up.”
Emily’s fingers brushed her cheek unconsciously.
“Then… he asked me to dinner. Got drunk. And confessed he was married.”
Silence settled, heavy. William gripped his cup. Emily stared somewhere beyond the present.
“I decided then—no future. I wouldn’t be ‘the other woman.’ But he didn’t give up. Flowers, books, trips… Because of him, I saw my first play, my first opera. I lived.”
“Why didn’t it work?” I asked carefully.
“He offered to leave her. I said no. Because I was afraid—afraid he’d regret it. That I wouldn’t be who he thought I was. That his family would never accept me. I was scared of love.”
“And I wasn’t ready to tear everything apart. Children, stability… I was scared of the weight of it,” William admitted.
Emily took a deep breath.
“Then I met someone else. It all happened so fast—engagement, marriage… I ran away. Didn’t even say goodbye.”
“I’d have begged you to stay,” William murmured, almost too quiet to hear. “But not then. I understood too late.”
“Years later, we bumped into each other here, by chance. I was getting divorced. He said he was happy for me. I lied, and he knew.”
William brushed her hand.
“You always lift your shoulders when you lie,” he whispered.
They fell quiet. Eyes locked. Everything was there—the years, the words unspoken, the paths not taken.
“Now we’re friends,” Emily smiled. “Or almost friends.”
“We just know how to love. In our own way. Without demands or promises,” William said.
And I thought—the miracle isn’t meeting. It’s not losing the warmth inside, even when things fall apart. It’s keeping someone in your life, no matter what.
An ordinary miracle. But maybe that’s the truest kind.
