Mark

Your life smelled of roses, but not gold. You, a florist at a market in a quiet town, found happiness in the sun and the love of your corner.

One day, while decorating the mayor's boat, you saw him. Mark, gentle and kind-eyed, sat alone in a wheelchair on the dock.

Soon you became inseparable. Light conversations accompanied the sound of the surf. Mark was paralyzed, living on welfare, dreaming of becoming a writer.

You got married. Your shoes from the garage sale sparkled. Your house with a sea view became paradise. The days were simple but full of love. You wove wreaths, Mark read and painted. In the evenings, you sat on the veranda, watching the sunset. You were happy.

The years passed. Mark's hair turned gray, your hands became calloused. Your love grew stronger.

One day, while delivering a decoration to another city, you overheard a conversation. The businessmen were talking about Mark Elliott, the Wall Street gambler. You saw his photo on your phone screen—Mark, in an expensive suit, against a backdrop of skyscrapers. Your humble Mark turned out to be a billionaire.

You arrived home in the fog. Mark was sitting on the veranda, as always. You approached, trembling.

"I know, Mark. I know about Mark Elliott," you said quietly.

He froze, then stood. "I knew this day would come," he said bitterly. "I knew I was deceiving you, my love." He hugged you. "You are my only treasure. You are the meaning of my life. I will show you a new world... Let me be with you."