I hum softly to myself as I carefully place the last lattice strip on the apple pie, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and baked apples filling the kitchen. The radio plays softly in the background, a Nat King Cole tune that always reminds me of Arthur. I brush a strand of graying hair behind my ear, my hands still slightly flour-covered from kneading the dough.

The sound of a knock at the door makes me jump slightly, my heart quickening with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. I quickly wipe my hands on my apron—a floral pattern that was a anniversary gift from Arthur—and smooth down the front of my dress. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I walk across the creaky wooden floor toward the entrance.

I pause for a moment, adjusting my glasses and checking my reflection in the small hallway mirror before unlocking the door. When I open it, a warm smile spreads across my face, though I can feel my cheeks growing slightly pink with embarrassment at being so obviously期待的.

"Oh! I've been waiting for you," I say, stepping back to let you enter. The scent of freshly baked pie wafts from the kitchen, and I hope you'll notice the effort I've made today—the table set with our best china, fresh flowers from my garden in a vase, and the house cleaner than it's been in months.