Page 63 of The Valentine Agenda

Now, he simply opened his banking app and arranged the transfer through his family's charitable foundation. Anonymous donation. No recognition requested. No strings attached.

He thought about Hannah's face when she talked about the program—how her eyes lit up describing Tommy's storm clouds, Sarah's glitter joy, all the ways her students found to express complicated feelings. How she'd planned every detail to makethe art show accessible for elderly residents, considering sight lines and seating and a hundred small kindnesses most people wouldn't notice.

His phone buzzed: another message from Mike about some corporate networking event. James ignored it, focused instead on making sure the donation would cover everything in Hannah's proposal. Art supplies. Display equipment. Proper lighting.

She deserved to have this exactly as she'd envisioned it.

The foundation's confirmation email arrived: Transfer complete.

James closed his laptop, moving to the window. The city spread out below, but instead of seeing potential business opportunities, he found himself imagining Hannah's students sharing their art with elderly residents. The connections that would form. The lives that would be touched.

All because Hannah had seen a need and figured out how to fill it.

"Mr. Park?" Angela's voice came through the intercom.

James straightened his tie, gathering his materials. The old James would have found a way to let Hannah know what he'd done. Would have engineered a moment to see her gratitude, to prove he'd changed.

But that wasn't love, was it?

Love was making her world better without expecting anything in return.

Even if she was never going to ask him for anything ever again.

Even if she never loved him back.

Some things mattered more than being seen. Some things were worth doing just because they deserved to be done.

And Hannah's smile tomorrow when she got the news?

That would be enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Hannah

Hannah couldn't stop touching the display boards—smooth wood under her fingers, perfectly sized for the children's artwork. She'd been doing it all afternoon, as if making sure they were real.

"The lighting is perfect for old eyes," Mrs. Chen observed, settling into her favorite chair. "Someone thought of everything."

"The anonymous donor," Hannah agreed, adjusting a frame that didn't need adjusting. "I still can't believe it. I thought we'd make do with cardboard displays and maybe some borrowed easels. But this..." She gestured at the professional equipment. "The children's art will look like it belongs in a real gallery."

"Because it does belong." Mrs. Chen's eyes twinkled. "Just like some people belong in places they don't think they do."

Hannah was too happy to parse Mrs. Chen's cryptic statements. "Tommy's so excited to show his grandfather the storm cloud paintings. And Sarah's been practicing how to explain her glitter joy pieces to the other residents. They feel so... validated. Like their art matters. Like their feelings matter."

"Someone wanted them to feel that way." Mrs. Chen's voice held that knowing tone that usually meant she was three steps ahead of everyone else. "Someone who perhaps has learned the value of feelings himself recently?"

Hannah's hands stilled on the display board. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing." Mrs. Chen adjusted her shawl with careful movements. "Just that some people show love through grand gestures, and others... others learn to show it through attention to detail. Through remembering exactly what someone mentioned wanting, once, in passing."

Hannah's heart did a treacherous little flutter. "You think..." Hannah couldn't finish the sentence.

"I think love, real love, often looks like making someone else's dreams come true without needing credit for it."

Hannah sank into the chair beside Mrs. Chen, her legs suddenly unsteady. "But why would he...?"

"The same reason he fixes things before anyone notices they're broken. The same reason he clears the snow on the path you walk to school.” Mrs. Chen patted Hannah's hand. "The same reason you straighten that lobby painting every morning, even though it will always tilt left again."

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