Seventeen years earlier…

I was six years old.

Our elementary school organized a spring charity fair in the old town square.

Children ran everywhere carrying balloons, paper windmills, and sticky hands covered in cotton candy.

I got lost within twenty minutes.

I remember standing beside a fountain, crying so hard that I could barely breathe.

My favorite green button had fallen off my little backpack.

To everyone else, it was just an old plastic button.

To me…

It had belonged to my grandfather.

A teenage boy in a school uniform crouched in front of me.

“What happened?”

“I lost it.”

“What?”

“My lucky button.”

Instead of laughing, he asked,

“What color?”

“Green.”

For nearly half an hour, he searched every crack in the pavement with me.

Finally…

He found it beside a storm drain.

I hugged it as though he had returned a treasure.

“Thank you.”

He smiled for the first time.

“You should tie it tighter.”

He pulled a piece of military-green cord from his backpack.

Carefully, he fastened the button to my key ring.

“There.”

“Now you won’t lose it again.”

Before I could even ask his name…

Someone called him.

“Daniel!”

He stood immediately.

A woman wearing an army uniform waved from across the square.

“Coming!”

He looked back at me.

“Go find your parents.”

Then he ran away.

For years…

I remembered only one thing about that afternoon.

A tall boy with warm eyes.

And a piece of green cord.

…

Back in the present…

Daniel sat alone in his apartment polishing his boots.

His mother quietly entered carrying tea.

“You’re smiling.”

He looked surprised.

“Am I?”

“You haven’t smiled like that in years.”

She placed the cup beside him.

“How was the date?”

He answered honestly.

“She tried very hard to make me dislike her.”

His mother laughed.

“She ordered too much?”

“Yes.”

“She pretended to have terrible habits?”

“Yes.”

“She wanted you to give up first.”

Daniel nodded.

“But?”

“I don’t think those were her real flaws.”

His mother looked amused.

“What makes you so certain?”

He opened his wallet.

Inside…

Folded carefully between two photographs…

Was an old newspaper clipping.

A picture from the elementary school charity fair.

In one blurry corner stood a little girl crying beside a fountain.

A green button dangled from her backpack.

“I’ve been looking for her for seventeen years.”

His mother blinked.

“The little girl?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain it’s the same person?”

“I recognized the button.”

She sat down slowly.

“You never told her?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“If she doesn’t remember…”

“I don’t want her to feel obligated.”

His mother smiled knowingly.

“So the famous Major Daniel Carter…”

“…has been carrying a newspaper clipping for seventeen years.”

He carefully returned it to his wallet.

“I thought I’d never see her again.”

…

Three days later…

My mother cornered me in the kitchen.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Will you meet Daniel again?”

“I don’t know.”

She crossed her arms.

“You’ve talked about him every day.”

“I have not.”

“You called him a log six times yesterday.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It certainly counts.”

Before I could argue, my phone vibrated.

One message.

Training exercise canceled because of heavy rain. If you have time, would you like to drink tea? — Daniel

No flowers.

No heart emoji.

No unnecessary words.

Just tea.

I stared at the message.

Lily snatched my phone.

She read it once.

Then burst out laughing.

“He’s inviting you on a tactical tea operation!”

“He writes like an operations order!”

I couldn’t help smiling.

“What should I answer?”

Lily looked at me.

“You’re actually considering it?”

“I…”

She pointed dramatically toward the screen.

“You already smiled.”

“I did not.”

“You smiled twice.”

I looked down at Daniel’s oversized jacket hanging beside my office chair.

Then at the ginger candies I still hadn’t eaten.

Finally…

I typed one sentence.

Tea sounds nice.

His reply arrived exactly thirty-one seconds later.

1400 hours. Same café. I’ll arrive fifteen minutes early.

Lily groaned.

“He even schedules romance in military time!”

I laughed so hard I almost dropped my phone.

For the first time in months…

I realized I was looking forward to seeing the thirty-five-year-old “log.”

What I didn’t know…

Was that Daniel had already gone somewhere before sending that invitation.

He had driven to the old elementary school.

Stood quietly beside the same stone fountain.

And taken a small velvet box from his pocket.

Inside it…

Rested another green button.

Exactly like the one he had tied onto a frightened little girl’s backpack…

Seventeen years earlier.