My father-in-law stood before me, poised beside the open window that welcomed the warm breath of the evening breeze. The deep red wine rested in his crystal glass like a liquid ruby, and when he swirled it gently, the glass’s faint whisper against his fingers was a soft, elegant murmur. His eyes, bright and sharp, moved like scanners, gliding not with mere sight, but with the intent of one who reads beneath the surface.
“You look exquisite in that dress,” he finally said, his voice brushing against my skin like warm velvet. “It seems that the years hold no power over you.” I released a small, nervous laugh, feigning composure as one hand unconsciously caressed the nape of my neck, where a gentle heat was beginning to rise.
“Oh father-in-law, don’t say that,” I replied teasingly, though my throat quivered. “I’m hardly as old as to be so faded. True, I am thirty-five now, but not so much as to look quite so done for, or do I, sir?” The clock on the wall tapped sharply, as if applauding our little exchange. He smiled—a crooked smile that seemed to carry a whole story in the simple curl of his lips.
“I didn’t mean it that way, my dear,” he said. “What I want to say is that you look very elegant. And with those heels… your beauty emerges unmistakably.” His words drifted like gardenia’s perfume in a closed room.
I sat on the deep blue velvet sofa, legs crossed, the wine-colored silk dress just brushing above my knees. I felt exposed, yet I did not move. I only extended my hand and accepted the glass he offered. “Well, you don’t look too shabby yourself, father-in-law,” I said without averting my gaze. “You are a true gentleman. You need only a companion to be complete.”
My words rippled through him, like a pebble cast upon still water. His gaze stirred, and he fell silent for a few seconds before releasing a soft, muted chuckle—more with his eyes than his lips. “I suppose, truly, there’s little hope for me now,” he said, lowering his gaze to the floor as if searching beneath the carpet for some lost, timeworn dream.
“The mirror no longer wishes to meet my eyes. How might a woman fixate on me? Almost sixty years weigh on me, and today is my birthday. Though I’ve considered that perhaps I ought to find a companion once more, I also believe no one will seek me out.”
A heavy silence filled the room as beyond, birds sang their final songs among the trees, and the wind tossed dry leaves against the balcony, as if carrying a secret it knew not whom to tell. “Who’s to say no, father-in-law?” I said, gazing at him with tender defiance. “Perhaps you simply haven’t opened your eyes wide enough.”
He lifted his eyes and then approached me slowly, step by measured step. The glass still in his hand, his eyes sparkled as if a sea of unspoken doubts churned just beneath their surface. I saw him come, and though I might have moved, I did not. Still as stone, swallowing hard, a shiver coursed from my ankles to the nape of my neck.
The air thickened, nearly viscous, and the ceiling fan’s soft hum seemed to slow. I heard my breath, shallow and uneven. The wine now tasted like fire, though why, I could not say. He stopped before me, so close that I could count the silver threads in his beard, and just as I was about to speak—“Dad!” my sister-in-law called from the hall. “Are you there?”
My father-in-law retreated to his daughter, and I was left with my heart pounding as though a drum thundered within my chest when the doorbell rang. Reality had come to tug me by the sleeve, pulling me out of a reverie I could not quite tell if it was beautiful—or dangerous.
I breathed deeply, shook my head as one might brush away a thick fog, rose, and walked to the door. Opening it, I found my dearest friend, always punctual as the morning’s first coffee. She carried a gift wrapped in golden paper tied with a ribbon that gleamed in the sun, and she wore that endless smile of hers. “But you—what’s the matter?” she asked the moment she saw me. “You look pale, as if you’d seen a ghost… or perhaps embraced one?”
I smiled nervously, concealing the tempest within. “You have no idea,” I said, beckoning her inside. “Come in, I’ll tell you everything quietly.” “Looks like I’m the first one here,” she noted, dusting off her shoes on the entry rug, as if reluctant to disturb the house with her presence.
“Yes, it does,” I answered, closing the door gently behind her. The scent of roast meat spiced with herbs drifted from the kitchen, and soft boleros played in the living room. Everything seemed normal—but to me, it was anything but.
I led her to my bedroom, where the slow-turning ceiling fan seemed to guard our secrets. She perched on the edge of my bed, placing the gift upon a chair, and looked at me with eyes that always knew when something was amiss. “Spill it, woman, you’re making me nervous,” she said elegantly crossing her legs. I sat beside her, inhaled, and let the truth pour out like shedding a corset that had long suffocated me.
“I was talking to my father-in-law… and I think he misunderstood what I meant.”
“How so?” she frowned, brows knitting like two adversarial cats. “I told him he ought to find a companion…” She peered into my face, doubt flickering. “But from what I saw in his eyes, I believe he thought I was speaking of myself. What I mean is, I think he believes I am interested in him.”
She stared at me a long, silent moment before bursting into a laugh that echoed through the room—so genuine that even the fan seemed to chuckle along.
“No way!” she exclaimed amid peals of laughter. “You’ve truly made my day! But this is no laughing matter,” I said, knitting my brows yet unable to suppress a smile.
“Calm down,” she said. “It’s not a tragedy. Just clip his wings—tell him clearly you only wished for his happiness, but it’s not with you. Then move on.” She paused, appraising me head to toe before lowering her voice to reveal a weighty secret.
“Though honestly… your father-in-law is a good man. And remember, you’ve been a widow over eight years now. If he appeals to you even a little, perhaps it’s worth considering. You’ll need courage, though—people will talk, and his other children… well, you know how they are.”
I swallowed; her words hovered on my tongue, reluctant to emerge. I fell silent, watching my hands play nervously with the edge of my dress. While my lips spoke another truth, my mind painted a delicate portrait of my father-in-law—the wineglass, his deep voice, the wounded smile, and those eyes that looked at me as though daring for the first time.
“Oh no, what are you thinking?” I murmured to myself, hand pressed to my chest. “Though…” My eyes fell. “I see him as a remarkable man. But also, I hold him with so much respect and affection… like a father.” She lifted a single eyebrow. “I don’t buy the last part.”
“Because when one speaks of a man as if he were a father, the voice does not tremble as yours does.”
I rose and walked to the dresser mirror, seeing my profile. The dress still embraced me elegantly, and my natural blush lingered on my cheeks. Perhaps I was not entirely mistaken. Perhaps I was only peering over the edge of an abyss—one sweet, dangerous, and temptingly warm.
The celebration reached its crescendo. Glasses chimed like crystal bells beneath laughter, boleros echoed against dining room walls, and the aroma of roasted meat mingled with the sugary perfume of the cake resting, waiting for its moment. Garden lights flickered like tamed fireflies, while conversations fluttered in the air like restless butterflies.
I was pouring wine into a glass when suddenly his deep voice came from behind, so near I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck. “Come, walk with me a moment. I have something very important to tell you.” Without waiting for my reply, he stepped toward the gallery overlooking the backyard.
I swallowed hard and felt the glass tremble softly in my fingers. I thought: this cannot be, not now, not after all I thought, felt, and imagined. Yet I forced myself to follow. It seemed better to clear the air—I did not want him to misunderstand, nor for things to become more tangled.
The patio door clicked closed behind us, and the fresh night air struck my face like a damp handkerchief. Garden lights danced in the breeze, and crickets began their serenade, as if heralding that something was about to unfold.
He took my hands in his. His palms were warm, steady—those hands one cannot release without the heart following suit. “I took your advice,” he said, locking eyes with a mixture of pride and nerves only known to men standing on the edge of a leap. “I found the courage to speak to someone. Because, as you said… I still have the right to be happy.”
I looked at him wide-eyed, like a child awaiting a secret. My heart twisted strangely. “I tell you first,” he said softly, “because I do not yet dare to tell my children. But I want you to know before anyone.”
“Come, I’ll introduce her to you.” I felt my soul return to my body. I smiled suddenly—a smile unbidden and entirely felt—and I leapt within as if freed from a spell.
“Well done, father-in-law,” I exclaimed, embracing him without hesitation. “That’s how I like it, brave as you’ve always been. But, my dear woman, keep the scandal low—I don’t want everyone to know yet.”
He smiled and led me back inside, while the party’s murmur lingered like an old perfume.
He took me to the kitchen, empty, bathed in the yellow glow of a hanging lamp, casting a nearly nostalgic warmth. There, standing by the pantry with bottles, glasses, and plates aligned like silent sentinels, was she.
The neighbor—a woman who had lived in the neighborhood for years, discreet and kind, one who greeted softly and offered coffee without expecting acceptance. She had never married, which earned her the nickname “the spinster” in the block—a name tossed with a mix of mockery and tenderness reserved for those we do not quite know how to describe.
And the peace I felt knowing that he had found someone… was beyond compare. Sometimes the mind betrays us, yet at other times, it leads us to paths we dare not tread. Have you ever been mistaken about someone?
