“Grandpa, do you think you’ll get married again?”
Arthur smiled.
“Perhaps one day.”
“How will you know if someone really loves you?”
Arthur considered the question carefully.
“Not because they promise to love you. Not because they tell you what you want to hear. And certainly not because you’re afraid of being alone.”
His grandson frowned.
“Then how?”
Arthur placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Watch what they do when they have nothing to gain from you.”
The boy nodded thoughtfully.
Arthur looked toward the house, where the evening light spilled through the windows.
He was sixty-six years old.
He was no longer the man who had entered his wedding night believing that a new marriage would erase five years of grief.
But he was still capable of hope.
And this time, he knew that real love would never require him to surrender his dignity, his judgment, or his peace.
