Jimmy was taken aback when the homeless man he had earlier bought coffee for boarded the plane and took a seat across from him in first class. Who was this man, and why had he needed money in the first place?
I never believed in fate—until I met Kathy.
She entered my life three months ago and quickly became my everything. People thought I was reckless for proposing after just a month, but everything with her felt so right.
We shared the same outlook on life, a love for skiing, and a passion for science fiction books. It was as if the universe itself was nudging me, whispering, “She’s the one.”
Now, I was flying out to meet her family for the first time.
Kathy had warned me about her father, David. She described him as tough, not one to give approval easily. But she also reassured me that, beneath his stern exterior, he had a kind heart and loved her deeply.
Honestly, I was nervous. I knew I had one shot to prove I was worthy of his daughter, and I didn’t want to mess it up.
I arrived at the airport far too early, my nerves getting the best of me. To kill time, I stopped by a small coffee shop across the street, hoping a warm drink would help calm my thoughts.
The hum of conversations and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee provided a welcome distraction from my worries.
That’s when I saw him.
A man stumbled into the café, his clothes worn and tattered. His face, lined with age, told the story of a hard life. His posture was slightly hunched, and his tired eyes scanned the room, searching for something.
I watched as he moved from table to table, speaking softly to people.
Most ignored him, avoiding eye contact or murmuring a quick apology. Then, he stopped in front of me.
“Excuse me,” he said hesitantly. “Could you spare some change? Just enough for a coffee.”
I hesitated. My first instinct was to decline—not out of indifference, but because I wasn’t sure if he was being truthful. Some people genuinely need help, while others take advantage.
But something about him was different. He wasn’t aggressive, and he looked uncomfortable asking.
“What kind of coffee do you want?” I asked.
“Jamaican Blue Mountain,” he replied, almost shyly. “I’ve heard it’s amazing.”
I nearly laughed. It was the most expensive option on the menu. For a moment, I thought he was joking. But the way he looked at me made me pause.
“Why that one?” I asked.
“It’s my birthday,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve always wanted to try it. Figured—why not today?”
Part of me wanted to roll my eyes.
Sure, it’s your birthday, I thought. But another part of me decided to believe him.
“Alright,” I said, standing up. “Let’s get you that coffee.”
His face lit up with a genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said.
I didn’t just buy him coffee—I added a slice of cake to the order. After all, what’s a birthday without cake? When I handed him the tray, I gestured to the empty chair across from me.
“Sit,” I said. “Tell me your story.”
He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure I was serious.
But then, he sat down, holding the coffee cup as if it were precious. And he started talking.
His name was David. He had lost everything—his family, job, and home—years ago. Betrayal and misfortune had played a part, but he didn’t make excuses.
He spoke clearly, with an honesty that was hard to ignore.
As I listened, I realized he wasn’t just looking for a handout. Life had broken him, yet he refused to give up.
By the time he finished, I felt a lump in my throat. Before leaving, I gave him $100. He tried to refuse, but I insisted.
“Consider it a gift,” I told him. “And happy birthday.”
I walked out of the café feeling good about helping someone. I never expected to see him again. I certainly didn’t think he would change my life just a few hours later.
Sitting in the first-class lounge, I sipped another cup of coffee. My anxiety about meeting Kathy’s parents had settled, but the thought of her father still lingered. What if he didn’t like me? What if he thought I wasn’t good enough for his daughter?
I pulled out my phone to text Kathy, who was already at her parents’ house.
I’m nervous, I wrote. How’s everything going?
Everything’s fine, she replied. I’m sure Dad will love you.
When the boarding call came, I found my seat by the window.
First class felt like an unnecessary luxury, but Kathy insisted I treat myself just this once. As I settled in, I couldn’t help but think about the man from the café.
I hoped the $100 had made his birthday a little brighter.
Just as I was getting comfortable, someone entered the aisle. I glanced up—and my heart nearly stopped.
It was him. The man from the café.
But he wasn’t wearing the same ragged clothes.
He was dressed in a tailored suit, his hair neatly styled, a polished watch on his wrist.
He caught my gaze and smirked.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked casually, taking the seat beside me.
I stared at him, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing. “What… what’s going on?”
He leaned back with a knowing smile. “Let’s call it… a test.”
“A test?” I echoed. “What do you mean?”
He pulled out a sleek notebook from his bag.
“Allow me to properly introduce myself,” he said. “I’m David.” He paused, watching my reaction. “Kathy’s father.”
My jaw dropped.
“Wait… you’re her dad? The one I’m flying to meet?”
“The very same,” he said, smirking. “I’ve always believed in a hands-on approach. I wanted to see who my daughter’s fiancé really is—beyond the polished introductions and well-rehearsed answers.”
I was speechless.
“So, this was all an act?” I asked.
“It was necessary,” he explained. “It’s easy to be kind when everyone’s watching. I wanted to see how you’d treat a stranger, especially one who seemed to have nothing to offer you. And you passed the first test.”
“The first?” I asked cautiously. “How many are there?”
He handed me the notebook and a pen. “Just one more. Write Kathy a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Yes,” he said. “Tell her why you love her, why you want to marry her, and how you plan to take care of her. Don’t overthink it—just be honest.”
I stared at the blank page, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. This wasn’t what I signed up for. But I had no choice.
So, I started writing.
At first, the words came slowly. Then, they flowed effortlessly.
I wrote about how Kathy made me feel complete, how her laughter brightened even the darkest days, and how I wanted to build a life with her filled with love and trust.
When I finished, my hand ached, but my heart felt lighter.
David read the letter, then looked up and smiled.
“You passed,” he said. “Welcome to the family.”
Relief flooded over me.
As we landed and headed to Kathy’s house, I thought the tests were over.
But later that night, I found a folded receipt on the counter.
It was from the café.
At the bottom, a line caught my eye:
“Extra donation—$100.”
Confused, I turned to Kathy.
“What’s this?” I asked.
She smiled. “That’s how my dad ties up loose ends. The money you gave him? He donated it to the café staff after you left.”
I stared at her. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”
She grinned. “Of course. And now you know—you’re not just marrying into a family. You’re joining something bigger.”
At that moment, I realized—I had found not just love, but a family unlike any other.