He says:
“Autumn tea should taste like home – a little warm, a little bitter, and full of love.”
I smile, seeing his hair which has turned more gray, and his gait which still limps.
Only, I have never seen a “flaw” in those legs – only a man who is always steadfast beside me, even when life is shaky.
For the past ten years, our lives have been simple:
He still works as an electronics repairman, and I run a small pastry shop in the town center.
In the afternoon, we sit on the porch, sipping tea and listening to the maple leaves fall.
But this autumn is different.
James started coughing a lot, and then one day he fainted in the repair shop.
The doctor at the hospital spoke softly but firmly:
“He has a heart problem. He needs surgery soon.”
I was sh0cked.
He held my hand and smiled softly:
“Don’t look so scared, Sarah. I’ve fixed broken things all my life… I’ll fix this one too.”
I broke out tears.
Not because I was afraid of losing him – but because for the first time, I realized how much I loved him.
The surgery lasted 6 hours.
I sat in the cold hallway, praying for him.
When the doctor came out, he smiled softly:
“The surgery was successful. He is a very strong man.”
I bowed my head, tears falling – not because of fear, but because I knew that God had given me more time with him.
As James woke up, he whispered:
“I dreamed that you were making tea. I knew I couldn’t go anywhere because I hadn’t had that cup of tea yet.”
I held his hand, laughing and crying:
“I will make it for you forever, as long as you are here.”
After the surgery, I took time off work to take care of him.
Every morning, I read to him; every afternoon, he sat by the window, watching the maple leaves fall on the porch.
One time, he said:
“Sarah, do you know why I love autumn?”
“Because it is beautiful?” – I replied.
“No. Because it taught me that, even if things fall apart, they can still bloom again next season. Just like us – even though we met late, this love still bloomed in time.”
I put the cup of tea in his hand and whispered:
“And we will have many more autumns, James.”
He smiled.
I knew that smile was the answer to everything.
A year later, James had fully recovered.
Every morning, we pushed the old bicycle out to the street, bought hot bread, and then went back to the porch to drink tea together.
He said, just hearing me make tea, he felt his heart was still alive.
Sometimes, someone asked me:
“Sarah, have you ever wished you had met James sooner?”
I shook my head and smiled:
“No. Because if I had met him sooner, I might not have been hurt enough to understand what true love is.”
That day, it was raining lightly.
I made two cups of tea, as usual.
Yet James was no longer sitting on the wooden chair on the porch.
He was lying in the bedroom, his breathing was getting weaker.
I held his hand, saying through my tears:
“Don’t go, James. I haven’t finished making today’s tea yet.”
He smiled, holding my hand tightly:
“I’ve made it. I smell cinnamon… That’s enough, Sarah.”
Puis il ferma doucement les yeux, le sourire toujours sur ses lèvres.
Un an après le décès de James, je vivais toujours dans cette vieille maison.
Chaque matin d’automne, je préparais encore deux tasses de thé, en plaçant une devant la chaise vide.
Je murmurais encore comme avant :
“James, le thé est prêt. C’est juste que cette année, les feuilles d’érable sont tombées plus tôt.
Je sais qu’il est toujours là, dans le vent, dans l’odeur du thé, dans mon battement de cœur.
Il y a des amours qui viennent tard, mais qui durent éternellement – pas besoin de vœux, pas besoin de temps pour prouver.
Une seule tasse de thé d’automne suffit à réchauffer toute une vie.
