The most romantic thing I have ever heard is a story I've been told since my childhood.
My Grandfather Ralph Stanley served in WWII. He fought hard in North Africa where the temperature was blisteringly hot and where he saw horrific things. He said that during those nights when the heat was almost unbearable he would dream about bottles of cold Pepsi with drops of water dripping down the side.
Ralph met and married my Grandma Daisy after he returned home from the war and every night before bed she would bring a him a cold bottle of Pepsi to drink.
I love that.
It has meant even more to me in recent years but I have always loved that my grandfather served when he was needed. I love that he came home. I love that my grandmother did what she could at a time when polite society didn't talk about the ugliness of war and in many ways veterans were left to themselves to deal with the consequences of surviving.
Mostly, I love that she loved him.