Saturday evening. 7:42 p.m.
The restaurant was small. Intimate. Candlelight only. Corner table reserved under Tomasz's name.
He arrived first dark blazer, open-collar shirt, hair neatly combed. No nerves this time. Just quiet confidence.
My mother arrived at 7:58.
Green dress the one she rarely wore. Hair down. Light makeup. She looked… hopeful.
They hugged.
Longer than before.
He pulled out her chair.
She smiled real, unguarded.
I watched from the car across the street. Tinted windows. Rain starting again. Phone feed from the button camera crisp.
Kasia beside me. Silent. Watching.
Tomasz ordered wine. Red. Her favorite.
They talked.
She laughed soft, surprised.
He touched her hand once. Light. Respectful.
She didn't pull away.
They ate slowly.
Shared stories.
She spoke about her son carefully. Proud. Worried.
He listened.
Nodded.
Asked gentle questions.
She opened up.
More than she had with me in months.
Kasia's voice was quiet.
"She's glowing."
