Page 29 of The Valentine Agenda

Mrs. Peterson looked at him curiously. "Disappointed? Oh, no, dear. I was charmed. Because he wasn't trying to be the best dancer in the room. He was just trying to make me happy."

Something uncomfortable shifted in James's chest. "But if he knew he wasn't good at it, why would he—"

"Choose that moment? Make himself vulnerable?" Her knowing smile reminded him of Mrs. Chen. "Because sometimes the most precious gifts are the ones that cost us our pride instead of our money."

James thought of Hannah, her hair styled, wearing a new dress. Of how she'd made herself vulnerable, believing in him, while he'd been focused on creating the perfect Instagram moment.

"Here," Mrs. Peterson held out the photograph. "Look at Harold's face. See how nervous he is? But look at how he's holding my hand..."

James leaned closer, actually looking. The black and white image captured something raw and real—a young man gazing at his partner like she was the only person in the world.

"You know," Mrs. Peterson said casually, "Hannah helped me organize all my old photos last month. Made little notes about the stories behind each one."

James could picture it perfectly—Hannah bent over the albums, her hair falling forward as she wrote in that neat teacher's handwriting of hers.

He could see her settling onto the floor without caring about creasing her clothes, cross-legged like she sometimes sat in the community room when helping children with art projects.

She would have had that look of total concentration she got when really listening to someone—head tilted slightly, eyes soft with attention, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"This isn't about Hannah," James said automatically, but even he could hear the lie in his voice.

"No?" Mrs. Peterson's eyes twinkled. "Then why did you just smile when I mentioned her name?"

"Mr. Thompson," he called out suddenly, surprising himself. "Do you need help with those newspapers?"

The elderly man was struggling with his reading glasses, squinting at the crossword. "Oh, I couldn't trouble you—"

"It's no trouble." The words felt strange in his mouth. Natural. "I have time."

And he did, he realized. His phone had been buzzing with emails and messages, but for the first time in his life, James Park wasn't checking it every two minutes.

Instead, he pulled up a chair and listened as Mr. Thompson explained the crossword clues, as Mrs. Peterson shared more photos, as Mrs. Chen watched it all with barely concealed amusement.

It wasn't until much later that James realized he'd spent three hours in the community room without once thinking about how it would look on social media or what anyone would think of his good deed.

He'd just... wanted to be there.

"This isn't about Hannah," he told his reflection in the elevator doors. But he knew it was a lie.

Because Hannah might not have been in the room, but her influence was everywhere—in the way these people opened their hearts, in how they shared their stories, in the simple act of taking time to really see each other.

And maybe James was finally learning to see too.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hannah

"He's here again," Sophie muttered, helping Hannah set up for the seniors’ monthly craft afternoon. "Third time this week."

Hannah didn't need to look up to know James had entered the room. She'd felt his presence the moment he walked in, like a shift in atmospheric pressure. "He's probably just trying to improve his image in the building."

"By learning how to make friendship bracelets?"

Hannah risked a glance. James was sitting with Mr. Thompson, actually listening as the older man explained the intricate pattern of knots. His suit jacket was draped over a chair, his sleeves rolled up. The sight of James Park's bare forearms should not have been so distracting.

"Stop looking," Sophie hissed.

"I'm not looking." Hannah focused on arranging craft supplies with unnecessary intensity. "I'm just... monitoring the situation."

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