By Ellen Lavender
It had started like any other Saturday. Yoga, breakfast, out to tackle Borough Market before the lunchtime crowds.
She’d seen him before; tall, bearded, handsome—out of her league. Their fingers touched as they both reached for the last Alphonso mango in the crate. He’d said it was hers if she’d have a drink with him. She’d agreed, laughing as the grocer replenished the stock behind them while he’d paid.
Eight years ago, today.
“Happy anniversary, my darling,” he said, kissing her growing stomach and passing her the freshly sliced mango he’d bought for her each Saturday in late spring since.
What a lovely story.
beautiful!
Aaaaww. So sweet and so deceptively simple. Nicely done!