She already knew as she looked out of the window into the approaching twilight. A lone figure walked towards her door. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she opened the door.
The man looked sadly at her and handed her a little bundle wrapped in weathered linen. Hands shaking, she unwrap the bundle. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed upon a perfect little book.
She remembered spending many nights sewing it, pouring all her love and heart into every stitch.
She remembered placing it in the hands of the man she loved more than anything in the world, before he went to war. She remembered telling him to keep it close to his heart, and bring it home when he returns from war, so that they may write beautiful memories of their future together.
And now, the book has returned to her. Even though it was weathered and worn, it was still perfect, just like the love they shared. She unclasped the cover slowly and then … gasped. For within the cover were meticulously burned pages forming a hollow. Within the hollow, nestled a delicate ring.
Choking back his tears, the man said,
“Just before he died in my arms, he told me –- how is it that I am able to fight a hundred men on the field but failed to utter two simple words to her … marry me -- And then he passed me this book and asked me to bring him home to you”
With that, she removed the ring from the hollow and slipped it into her finger.
She looked at the man and said,
“He is home”