They put the flat I was renting up for sale, so I had no choice but to move out.

I’d only lived there for a year, but it had become my little haven—quiet, sunlit, filled with the scent of lavender candles.

On my last day, I cleaned every corner, scrubbed the tiles until they shone,

and even left a small bouquet of daisies on the table. It felt right to leave something beautiful behind, even if no one would notice.

The next morning, my phone rang. It was my landlady. My heart sank—I thought she’d found something broken or wanted to complain about some tiny detail I’d missed. I hesitated before answering.

But instead of anger, her voice was warm. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she said.

“I’ve never seen a tenant leave a place so spotless. The new buyers couldn’t believe anyone had just moved out—it looked brand new.”

I laughed, a little embarrassed. “Oh, that’s just how I was raised,” I said softly. “Leave things better than you found them.”

There was a pause on the line. Then she asked gently, “You always this thoughtful?”

I didn’t know what to say. I told her I just liked taking care of things, that maybe it’s easier than taking care of myself.

She chuckled, but her next words caught me completely off guard

. “How come someone like you is still alone? You sound like the kind of person people dream of finding.”

I was speechless. No one had ever said something like that to me—not with such sincerity.

Then she added, “You know what? I have a friend.

He’s kind, single, and just as careful with people as you are with homes. Would you let me introduce you two?”

I smiled for the first time that day. Sometimes,

kindness circles back when you least expect it—not through grand gestures,

but through clean floors, a phone call, and a stranger’s belief that you deserve more than loneliness.