One afternoon, he shows her a secret: a small wooden box he has been carving for a decade. Inside are tiny, intricate scenes—a childhood home, a dog he once had, a river he never crossed. "I was waiting," he admits, "for someone to show it to."

(laughs softly) "God, no. That wasn't love. That was performance."

He whispers, "I didn't know I was lonely until I met you."