“Do you have an expired cake for my wife?” the homeless man asked… But the millionaire saw everything…

That morning, Miguel had awakened before dawn beneath a bridge in El Raval, where he and Isabel now lived. He watched her sleep, frail and coughing even in rest, wrapped in a blanket they’d scavenged months earlier. To him, she remained the most beautiful woman in the world.

It was November 24—their anniversary.
Thirty-seven years earlier, they had married in a small Andalusian church. Isabel wore a simple white dress stitched by her mother; Miguel borrowed a suit from his brother. They had nothing except love, and for a long time, that had been enough.

Their lives unraveled six years earlier when the construction company Miguel had worked for decades shut down. Jobs vanished. Savings disappeared. Then their apartment was gone. Family turned away. Isabel became ill, medication grew unaffordable, and eventually, they were left with nowhere to go but the streets.

Even so, Miguel never stopped caring for her. He picked flowers from public gardens, read old newspapers aloud, told stories to ease her pain, and always found a way to mark their anniversary.

This year, Isabel was weaker than ever. Her cough had worsened, her strength slipping away. Miguel knew she needed warmth, medicine, and nourishing food—but all he had to give was his devotion.

That morning, he chose to try anyway. A cake, he thought—something small to remind her of happier times.

He walked for hours past bakery windows, imagining flavors he would never taste himself. He hoped someone might offer food destined for the trash—still good, just unsellable.

That hope led him to La Corona Pastelería, one of the most exclusive shops in the Eixample district. The window glittered with elegant desserts. After a long moment, Miguel stepped inside.

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