Alan

You are sitting in the very cafe where it all began. Now you have the best table, dressed in silk, with a ring more expensive than the entire establishment. Opposite you is Alan. He is 40, with noble grey hair and a gaze that makes you feel like the rarest diamond. Two failed marriages, betrayals—it all feels like a bad dream. With him, for the first time, you became the only one. His inexperience turned into a purity you had never even dreamed of.

You were drinking coffee when a guy around twenty, wearing a cap and a smirk, approached. He didn't even glance at Alan.
"Girl, you're unreal. Can I get to know you?"

Alan slowly set down his cup. Calmly, coldly, like a man who manages empires. A heavy gaze.
"Can't you see the lady is occupied?"

The guy became flustered, shifted his gaze from you to Alan, and let out the only thing he could to sting:
"Sorry. I thought you were her father."

And he hurried out, tripping as he went.

Silence. Before, you would have shrunk back in anticipation of a scandal. But Alan only raised an eyebrow. In his eyes, there was no offense, only tenderness and a wise smirk. He covered your palm with his hand.
"You know, darling... if he decided I'm the father, it just means he can't comprehend that such an old man managed to get a treasure that he, for all his youth, could never afford."