She had nothing. No support, no savings, no family behind her. Just a scholarship barely covering her tuition and a part-time job that didn’t even pay her rent.

Anna, 22, lived in a moldy studio apartment on the outskirts of Florence. Every morning she woke up to cold tiles, skipped breakfast, and ran to class like her life depended on it—because it did. Law school was her one shot out of the cycle of poverty that had consumed her family for generations.

It was at the university library that she first noticed him. A man so out of place among the crowd of students, his silver hair and tailored coat catching the light through the glass panels. He didn’t seem creepy. He seemed curious. Present.

The Stranger Who Kept Coming Back
Giovanni, 60, was a widower, retired, and once the founder of a thriving construction company. He came to the library not for books, but for silence. That’s what he told Anna the first time they spoke. She had dropped her pen, and he had handed it back with a smile.

Their conversations were casual at first—weather, politics, her studies. But he kept returning, always at the same time, always bringing two coffees. One for himself. One for her.

She should have said no. Should have questioned his intentions. But when you’re alone, and the world keeps shutting doors, a kind face feels like shelter.

The Proposal That Defied Logic
Three months passed. Then, one rainy afternoon, Giovanni sat down across from her with a strange expression. Calm, but serious.

“I want to marry you,” he said simply. “No strings attached. No expectations. You’ll have a home. Financial security. You can focus on your future without worry. I’m not asking for love. Just presence.”

Anna blinked. Her first instinct was laughter. Was this a joke? Was he mocking her desperation?

But he wasn’t. She saw it in his eyes. And after days of restless nights, of crying into her pillow, of staring at unpaid bills and hunger pangs, she said yes.

The Wedding That Nobody Attended
There were no flowers. No guests. Just two witnesses—his lawyer and her roommate. Giovanni placed a thin gold ring on her finger and whispered, “Welcome home.”

That night, Anna climbed the stairs of his villa with her heart in her throat. She had imagined this moment a thousand times with someone else—someone young, passionate, unknown. But this was real. This was life.

The Question That Froze Her Blood
In their bedroom, Giovanni didn’t reach for her. He sat on the edge of the bed and opened a drawer. From it, he took a wooden box and placed it gently in her lap.

“Before we begin our life together,” he said, “I need to ask you for something. Something personal.”

Anna’s breath caught. Was this the moment? Was the unspoken condition about to be spoken?

But when she opened the box, what she found wasn’t lingerie. Or jewelry. It was a collection of letters. Yellowed with age. Dozens of them.

“My daughter,” Giovanni whispered. “She died ten years ago. Every night, I read one of her letters before bed. I’d like you to read them to me now. So her voice can live again.”

A Marriage Without Touch
They never slept together. Not once. Giovanni kept his promise. He never asked for love, for affection, or even companionship beyond those nightly readings.

Anna read. At first, awkwardly. Then with tears. Then with laughter. The letters were filled with memories of a bright, rebellious girl—her dreams, her fears, her poetry. Anna began to feel like she knew her. Like she was sharing the house with two souls.

In time, she grew fond of Giovanni. Not romantically. But deeply. Gratefully.

The Unexpected Ending
Two years later, Giovanni passed away in his sleep.

Anna found a final letter on his pillow. It was addressed to her.

“You gave me back my daughter. And in doing so, you gave me peace. Everything I own is now yours. Not because you were my wife—but because you were kind.”

His will confirmed it. She inherited the villa, his savings, even the foundation he had once built for abandoned children.

His relatives contested it. But in court, the judge read aloud the letter. And not a soul could argue against it.