She shook her head. “No, sweetheart. It’s not what you think. But you need to sit down.”
She told me everything. Luke had been attending baking classes every week. He was learning to bake for me.
I was stunned. Why would he do that? Mom explained that it was his grandmother’s dying wish for him to bake for his family every Sunday as a gesture of love, to build a family tree, and to create a yearly photo album with funny captions. Tears streamed down my face as I realized how wrong I had been.
While I was imagining betrayal, Luke was honoring his grandmother’s legacy in the most thoughtful way possible. When he came home that evening, I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. “I know about the baking classes,” I confessed.
He froze. “You…you do? How?”
“I had Mom follow you,” I admitted, feeling guilty. “I thought you were cheating.”
“Kate,” he said, rushing to hold me. “I would never do that. I just wanted to surprise you. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be special, like Gran always said gestures of love should be.”
That night, he showed me everything he had been working on. A leather album filled with funny captions on family photos, a family tree with room for our future kids, and a recipe he had been practicing: his grandmother’s apple pie. It was slightly burnt and lopsided, but to me, it was perfect.
As we ate, I felt his grandmother’s presence, smiling over us. Her legacy was alive in Luke’s love. From that day on, I learned an important lesson. Love isn’t about grand gestures, it’s about the little things. The sweet smells, the thoughtful traditions, and the quiet ways we show each other we care. Our life may not be perfect, but it’s filled with love. And that’s more than enough.