If someone had said that a single cup of coffee could influence my future family life,

I would have thought they were out of their mind. But that was before I met Kathy—before I found myself on a plane,

on my way to meet her parents and hoping to win their approval. Three months ago, Kathy and I were just strangers.

But the instant she entered my life, I sensed that I had discovered something truly special. Our bond deepened through

our shared passion for skiing, a mutual intrigue for sci-fi novels, and the effortless tranquility that enveloped

us each evening, regardless of how challenging the day had been. Proposing after only a month seemed

crazy to everyone around me, but for me, it felt like it was meant to be. As I made my way to meet the

person who held the most significance in her life—her father, David.

Kathy had cautioned me that he was a hard judge of character, a man who didn’t give out approval easily. She mentioned that he loved her deeply and would go to great lengths to make sure she was happy. He would be all business and observant,

and I would have just a single opportunity—only one—to show that I was deserving of his daughter. It was enough to twist my stomach in knots. To ease my anxiety, I got to the airport early and found a little coffee shop just across the street where I could relax.

The shop felt alive with the soft buzz of morning chatter and the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I took a sip of my cappuccino and reminded myself: Just be honest, be respectful, and let him see the real you. Kathy’s father wasn’t looking for perfection; he just wanted something real. Even so, the idea made my chest feel tight.

That’s when a man walked in, catching my eye. His clothes were well-worn, featuring frayed hems and a collar that had seen better times. His face was etched with deep lines, the sort that come from years of hard work and enduring disappointments. As he finally came closer, his voice was soft, almost tinged with regret.

“Excuse me,” he murmured softly. “Do you have any spare change?” Is that enough for a cup of coffee?

I paused for a moment. It wasn’t that I didn’t care; I was just curious about what his story might be. There was a genuine quality in the way he asked—not forceful, just filled with hope. I chose to trust him a little more than I usually would. “What type of coffee would you like?”

I was taken aback by his answer. “Jamaican Blue Mountain,” he said, a hint of shyness in his voice. The café offered its priciest blend. I lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“What makes that one special?”