That night, as the last of the regulars filtered out and the pub quieted to a soft hum, James fumbled inside his coat pocket. His fingers shook more than usual, and Carla noticed how his usually steady hand trembled with an unusual intensity.
Finally, he pulled out an envelope, the edges worn and crumpled as if it had been carried around for days. His hand hovered in the air for a moment before he extended it toward her. “I’ve been wanting to give this to you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, each word marked by a strange blend of hesitation and resolve.