Anna never dreamed of riches. A modest university student, she barely made ends meet working night shifts at a small café and studying during every free minute. Life had never been easy for her: her father passed away when she was a child, and her mother worked herself to the bone just to put food on the table. She had grown up with struggle as her constant companion — until the day she met him.

Vladimir Alekseevich was everything Anna was not used to. A sixty-year-old businessman, elegant, composed, with silver hair and deep, melancholic eyes. He came into her café one evening, ordered a simple coffee, and stayed until closing time, watching her quietly. He came back the next day. And again. He never said anything inappropriate. Never acted like a typical wealthy man chasing youth. He talked. He listened. He brought her flowers and books. Then, one evening, he invited her to dinner.

Her friends thought she had lost her mind. “He’s your grandfather’s age! Are you serious?” they said. But Anna didn’t see his age. She saw his kindness. His respect. The way he made her feel safe — something she had never felt before. Three months later, he proposed. A limousine, a sparkling diamond ring, a rooftop dinner. She said yes.

The wedding was lavish. A snow-white dress, fountains of champagne, and a sea of curious onlookers. Tabloids exploded with headlines: “Poor Student Captures Millionaire’s Heart!” People called her a gold-digger. She didn’t respond. She knew the truth.

But nothing could have prepared her for what happened on their wedding night.

Anna was anxious. Thoughts spun in her head: “Will it be awkward? Will he expect… that? Will he be gentle?” She stepped into the bedroom of their luxurious honeymoon suite with trembling hands. Vladimir was sitting on the edge of the bed, glass of wine in hand, a serious look on his face.

— Anna, — he said softly, — I need to ask you something.

She braced herself. Her heart started racing.

— Of course. What is it? — she answered, trying to hide the tension in her voice.

— Please don’t be alarmed. I know you may have expected something else tonight. But I’m asking you… just stay with me. No kisses. No touching. No intimacy. I just want you to talk to me. Tell me about your childhood. Your dreams. Your fears. I want to know who you really are.

Anna froze.

He wasn’t joking. His eyes were sincere. This wasn’t a trick or a game. He didn’t want her body. He wanted her soul.

— Are you… serious? — she whispered.

He nodded. And in that moment, Anna understood: everything they said about him was a lie. He wasn’t a lonely old man trying to buy youth. He was a man capable of real love.

That night, there was no passion. Only stories. Secrets. Laughter. She told him about her grandmother’s famous pies, her fear of the dark, and how she had always dreamed of becoming a writer. He listened. Truly listened — like no one ever had before.

Three years have passed since that night. Anna became a writer. Her debut novel, “The First Night”, became a bestseller, with millions of copies sold around the world. In it, she shared her truth — not about the riches or the wedding, but about the man who asked her, on their wedding night, to simply be with him.

Now they live in a quiet house by the sea. Vladimir still holds her hand every evening. They still talk like it’s their first conversation. She is still young. He is still wise. And their love — it’s real.

If you think this is just another fairy tale about a young woman and a rich old man — you’re wrong.

This is the story of how one unexpected request changed everything.