He stood by the door with flowers in his hands, a little awkwardly, as if still nervous despite the years.

A second later, she appeared: homely, in a soft sweater, with a tired but very lively gaze.

He handed her the bouquet, she smiled, pressed her cheek to the flowers... and at that moment, it became quiet and warm inside.

No theatrics. No pretentious romance. Just a man who still greets his woman with flowers. Just love that refuses to fade with time.

I looked at this for a long time and thought that this is the kind of love I believe in.

Not loud, not ideal, but real.

The kind that lasts for years, endures everyday life, fatigue, difficult days, and still remains. Love until old age. When it's not about surprising, but about being there.

When flowers aren't an excuse, but a habit of the heart.

If such love exists beyond ordinary windows, then it's possible for us too. We just need to be able to see it... and choose it.

Do you believe in love until old age?
Or do you think it's just a pretty story?