I was working on my laptop at a corner table when an older woman asked if she could sit across from me because the place was full.
I said yes.
She ordered a single espresso and sat very still, hands folded, staring at the cup like it contained answers.
After about twenty minutes she spoke without looking up.
“My daughter got engaged yesterday,” she said softly. “She called to tell me. I said all the right things.”
I closed my laptop.
“But?” I asked.
She finally looked at me. Her eyes were tired but kind.
“But I spent the whole call wondering if I raised her to choose someone who will actually stay when things get hard… or just someone who looks good in photos.”
She took a sip of her espresso.
“I stayed in a marriage for twenty-eight years because I thought that was what love required. Now I watch her and I don’t know if I should warn her or let her figure it out herself.”
I didn’t have an answer. Nobody really does in moments like that.