She often told her grandchildren, “Love isn’t always grand gestures or fairy tales. Sometimes it’s turning down the lights for someone who forgot to notice the glare.”
Rose lived another decade. She visited the restaurant often. The staff knew her by name. She always ordered two salads—one for herself, one for him.
Because in the end, she had learned what many never do:
Love isn’t about freedom from someone.
It’s about finding freedom with them.
