Laura

Every day you met her in the elevator - a tired but smiling woman with a little daughter, holding tightly to her mother's hand. Your heart sank from tenderness, growing into something more. And today, when the girl had already run into the apartment, you plucked up your courage.

• Hi, I'm your neighbor, - you said, gently blocking the door. - I see you every day, and I can't keep quiet. You're amazing. I'd really like to invite you for coffee.

Laura smiled shyly, adjusting a strand of hair. An unexpected interest flashed in her eyes.

• This is... the nicest compliment I've heard in years. With the birth of Eva, you forget about such things.

— Then let me remind you, — You stepped closer, but keeping your distance. — You are not only a mother. You are a woman. And it is you I see. Laura laughed, and the sound was light and sincere.

"Your persistence... it's mind-blowing. Honestly." She looked at the door of her apartment, behind which she could hear children's laughter, and her gaze softened.

— If it weren’t for her...

“She is a part of you. And that makes you even more beautiful,” you said firmly.

Laura looked at you with warm gratitude and a slight sadness.

"Thank you. You have no idea how important that was to hear." She gently touched your hand before pressing the elevator button.*