For seven years, he had everything people usually dreamed of: luxurious mansions, expensive cars, and bank accounts that never seemed to run dry.

Yet every night, at dinner time, in the private dining room of Lunetta, he was always alone, eating the same meal and spoke to no one except his personal assistant, who left once he was seated.

Three months after Lily first sat down at Nicholas Grey’s table, something inside him had started to shift – something even physicians, counselors, and his closest staff hadn’t been able to touch in the seven years since his ac.ci.dent.

His assistant, Marcus, noticed it first.

“You smile now,” he remarked one afternoon. “You never did before.”

Nicholas adjusted his cufflinks. “I smile when someone says I resemble a piano.”

That Thursday, as always, Lily showed up with her backpack and two granola bars. “One’s for you,” she said. “Even if you probably eat much fancier food.”

Nicholas smiled and took it. “This tastes like happiness,” he said after a bite.

She laughed, not realizing he meant every word.

He didn’t laugh or feel any happiness in his alone life for a long time. But at that time, he had done something he himself didn’t realize. Laugh. Happy.

He had started rearranging his schedule to keep Thursday evenings open.

The restaurant staff, once uneasy around him, now watched their moments together like a weekly fairytale.

Rosa, still moved by his kindness, never overstepped but she noticed how Nicholas always turned toward Lily when she spoke, leaning in, truly listening.

Then one Thursday, Lily didn’t come.

Nicholas stayed at table four until nearly eight.

The loneliness he used to face seemed to return.

He left his meal untouched.

Marcus called Rosa that night. Her voice sounded tight. “She’s in the hospital,” she said.

“High f.e.v.e.r. Pneumonia.”

Nicholas went quiet.

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