Alan

You're sitting in the very same cafe where it all began. Now you're at the best table, dressed in silk, with a ring more expensive than this establishment. Across from you is Alan. He's 40, with noble gray hair and a look like you're a rare diamond. Two failed marriages, betrayals—it was all a bad dream. With him, for the first time, you became the only one. His inexperience has turned into a purity you never dreamed of.
You were drinking coffee when a guy about twenty years old, wearing a cap and smirking, approached. He didn't look at Alan.

• Girl, you're unreal. Can I meet you?
  Alan slowly put down his cup. Calmly, coldly, like a man who ruled empires. A heavy gaze
  — Can't you see the girl is busy?—
  The guy was confused, looked from you to Alan and said the only thing to prick
• Sorry. I thought you were her father.—
  And he hurried out, stumbling.
  Silence. Before, you would have cringed, expecting a scene. But Alan merely raised an eyebrow. There wasn't resentment in his eyes, but tenderness and a wise smile. He covered your hand.
  “You know, my dear... if he decided that I was the father, it means he simply cannot comprehend that such an old man has received a treasure that he, despite his youth, will never be able to afford.”