“Are you in love with me?” she asked, her voice gentle and sincere, as if seeking a truth she was ready to hear. Her eyes, soft and searching, found in him something she had longed for.
“Love,” he echoed with a soft chuckle, allowing the question to hang between them.
“What makes you think it’s love?” he continued after a pause. “Does it take love to look at you the way I do? To share a laugh, to ask how you are?”
She studied him, intrigued. Even if it wasn’t love, she seemed content. “In a world that keeps everyone constantly on the move, with you carrying the weight of your family and company, what else could it be, if not love?” she asked.
He looked away, his gaze wandering to the distant green woods, searching for an answer. He always had one, she knew that. After a moment, he glanced down at the stream flowing beneath the bridge where they stood.
“There’s an orange grove in my village,” he said softly. “It’s perched on a hill, visible from the road. If you come with me, we could spend some time just looking at it. I love those oranges, and I think you would too. Would you?”
She smiled. “Maybe I would. But that’s not where you want to answer my question. So, tell me, are you in love with me?”
He smiled, his eyes twinkling with a thought. “The oranges hang so low on those trees. Some people pick them, but I don’t. I’m captivated by the sight of that grove, not by the taste of the fruit. The taste belongs to the family that owns the trees. The view belongs to us if we take the time to stop, to see, to feel the fragrance.”
He paused, then continued, “I wonder if those oranges want to be tasted or simply admired. Perhaps I look at you the same way.”
She laughed lightly. “You have a strange way of explaining simple things. Are you a philosopher now?”
He nodded, still smiling. “Call me what you like, but not a lover. Love is a powerful emotion, one that demands attention. If neglected, it can destroy. Love requires answers, sets expectations… asks, ‘What next?'”
He went on, “I enjoy discussing music, history, the future, politics, business—but with different people. With you, I discuss music. We’ll never talk about history or politics, I know that. I do that with Ben, my company’s accountant. But I would never discuss music with Ben. That, I do with you.”
She listened intently, her interest piqued. “So, you enjoy my company because there’s nothing to attend to once we part ways,” she said thoughtfully. “And, of course, because I’m awesome.”
He laughed. “Yes, you are. And do you know why we talk? Because we are awesome. We have people in our lives who keep us grounded, who help us stay true to ourselves. We need those people—they make us who we are.”
She smiled, seemingly convinced. With a playful laugh, she asked, “So, are you going to tell me now that you need me?”
“Yes, I need you,” he said, his tone sincere. “I need you to discuss music, to look at you while we talk, to sit with you in a quiet place, to meet your friends. You help me stay connected to myself.” He paused, then added, “Back home, I’m a son, a sibling, a father, a husband. I take care of the legacy my father left us, work hard to grow it, and plan to pass it on to the next generation. I discuss all of that with my wife. I need her. We are fortunate, Ana, because we have the people we need.”