Tiny Love Stories: ‘Let Joy Back In'

New York Times

17 hours ago

A Blue Stone for My Desolate World
Typhoid imprisoned me — 6 years old, aching, silently watching the ceiling at home in Ambala, India. My cot moved to the veranda every evening; I watched the world play without me. Loneliness settled like dust. One dusk, my friend Madhu's mother arrived like a breeze. She spoke in stories, then slipped a ring onto my finger: rolled gold, with a sea-blue stone. 'For the princess,' she said. It shimmered like a spell. I whispered to it, held it up to show the sun. It became my secret friend, my talisman. That small circle of beauty let joy back in. — Viney Kirpal
The Love He Could Give
I moved from the city to a small town for work — single, uncertain, joking to friends that I was David Rose from 'Schitt's Creek.' Then I met him. Though he'd just left a 16-year-long relationship, he made me feel chosen. One sunny morning, as I reached for my shoes, he called. 'I'm coming over,' he said. Minutes later, he arrived — leather jacket, wet curls, steady brown eyes — holding a vase of tulips, ruscus, wild veronica. He'd arranged them himself. He kissed me softly, then whispered, 'Have a beautiful day, papi chulo.' The flowers stayed. A week later, he didn't. — Mayank Chugh
'I Know She Was Difficult'
After the call, I was awash with relief. My troubled, depressed mother, just deceased, would never again brand Dad an idiot, an ignoramus, an imbecile. He had selflessly cared for her during her many declining years. Kind Dad could finally find a woman who appreciated him, I thought. 'I still miss your mum,' he told me years later. 'I know she was difficult, but I choose to remember the good times.' Tall, handsome Dad, the most eligible man in the care home to which he eventually moved, never showed the slightest interest in the possibility of a new romantic relationship. — Tony Elston
With a Little Help From Our Friend
Each year, in Berlin, a friend invited my now-husband, Andreas, and me to her birthday party. We never met there. But one day, he asked her to bring a friend to a party. She chose me: 'He is just your type.' A grunge musician with long blonde hair, he was indeed. After becoming a couple, we discovered that neither of us had ever liked our friend's birthday parties. I had always come early to leave early. He had always arrived as late as possible. No chance to meet there. Still, it's our friend's gift that we met at all. — Isolde Peter
See more Tiny Love Stories at nytimes.com/modernlove. Submit yours at nytimes.com/tinylovestories.
Want more from Modern Love? Watch the TV series; sign up for the newsletter; or listen to the podcast on iTunes, Spotify or Google Play. We also have swag at the NYT Store and two books, 'Modern Love: True Stories of Love, Loss, and Redemption' and 'Tiny Love Stories: True Tales of Love in 100 Words or Less.'