They were at a weekend market, wandering between stalls of vintage furniture and overpriced candles, when she saw him pocket the change. The vendor, an older woman with unsteady hands, had given him back too much. A note folded into the coins. He counted it quickly, paused for half a second, and then slid it into his wallet without a word. She watched this happen in the space of a breath. He did not know she was looking. He smiled at her, took her hand, and led her toward the next stall. She said nothing. But the image stayed. A small thing. An overpayment of perhaps ten dollars. And yet it told her more about his character than every charming word he had spoken over the previous month.