Angelica lit the last scented candle with a smile. An approving one that beamed with pride at the beautiful decorations she had done.
Red heart-shaped petals covered the pristine floor in fine patterns. Crisp scent of lavender soared in the air like the tender stroke of romance. It was all romantic, and she hoped he'd like it.
Just out of habit and a yielding need for perfection, she touched the single tulip in the glass vase, sitting among chinas on the table, and then opened the glassware to ensure her plating was still perfect.
The music was soft. She had ordered a vinyl tape. One she had heard him mention over the phone. It had been a lot of work getting a hold of it, but she got it at last, and at a cost. But it didn't matter.
For those we love, nothing mattered than their happiness. Them knowing we cared. And she did. Truly.
The entire afternoon, she had bustled with the preparation of surprising him tonight, like it was their first anniversary.
She touched the purple tulip again. Moved the vase a little bit. Maybe she should have gotten a red one instead?
Anxiety made her hands clammy. The wealth of it had her stomach buzzing, her head heavy with dizziness.
Just the thought of how he'd react to her surprise gave her a whole new surge of energy, but beneath it was a matching contrast of apprehension. It wasn't one she hasn't experienced before. She would get it right this time. She knew she would. She must.
She glanced at the clock. It was 4:30pm. Aware he'd be back by 5, she made finishing touches. But even after 4 hours, there was no sign of him. Nervousness slowly grew into worry and to disappointment and then into panic.
After another hour of almost wearing a hole in the deep gunmetal rug by the large glass panels, she heard the sound of his car rolling in.
A smile of relief crossed her face, as she welcomed him at the door.
It was her years of breeding that stopped her from running into his arms. Or maybe it was the awareness of his reaction to it, that had her patiently waiting for him to walk in.
"Hey, Seb, I was worried—" she trailed off at the sight of the tiredness in his eyes. "Are you okay? You look tired." His rawboned face, now drawn and pale. His midnight blue eyes, draped with fatigue. And if one looked closely, there was a streak of anger beneath it all.
"Did something happen at the company?" Concern laced her voice, but his gaze traveled over her head.
"What's all this?" He drawled. The blandness in his tone and inscrutable emotions on his face had her shifting on her feet and looking around.
"I... I did this." She muttered. A fleeting smile worked its way to her face.
His eyes narrowed fractionally as he observed the place again. "What for?"
Something sharp sliced through a spot in her heart, but again it was the training she has had that pulled her lips up to a curve as she replied, "For us. Don't tell me you forgot?" Again. She wanted to add, but she knew better.
If only she really knew better— knew why it never seemed to work. Why it never...she trailed off.
The confused frown that creased his brows was all there was to know that, just like the year before, he forgot again. The hurt cut deep like a butcher's knife, but it was that desperation to make things work, to make him know that she cared, that brazed her and slipped that smile back to her face.
Skimming a bit over six feet and built with lean muscles, he had always looked so intimidating. Even with the tired eyes and stubbled faced, he still hadn't lost his touch.
"It's our anniversary. Our second anniversary, so I made this for us." She told him, her smile blooming with pride. "What do you say? We eat, and," She took a step closer, and reached for the lapel of his biege suit. "And maybe we can do what couples do on nights like this?" Her lashes flitted on their own accord, and her cheeks carried a blush she was completely aware of.
All she wanted was this night with him. A change from all the let downs that were slowly turning into inadequacies. Her inadequacies to make her marriage work. To get the attention of the man she loved and make him love her.
Soft knocks of fear rapped at her heart as he regarded her with that stoic look in his eyes that had always passed on one message. His rejection.
"You know you didn't have to do this." He said. It was definitely a rejection and a reminder that the efforts were against the rules. And it wasn't just the rejection that made her hurt, it was the politeness he imbued in it. The gentleness grated deeply on her inside.
Her feet were threatening to shake, and it took all her will to keep her firm. "I chose to do this."
"But we both agreed not to make these efforts, Angelica. So why are you doing all this?"
Why? The answer was very simple. She loved him. And she wanted romance. How difficult could this be?
"Maybe we can change a bit of the rules, Sebastian. Maybe we can both put in the effort. I'm already putting in—" she stopped and followed him with her eyes when he sighed and walked towards the stairs.
"W-where are you... Sebastian–" she called and he turned almost immediately.
She took a step back when she met his eyes. They had darkened like something out of a dark fantasy book.
"I appreciate the gesture, but I'm sorry, I can't accept. I didn't ask you for this. And stop wasting your time."
The shock should have been long gone by now as she had had a lot of practice. But nothing could really prepare one for this amount of insistent rejection. Failures. Because she was slowly beginning to feel like one, as she struggled for words.
Disappointment, hurt, uncertainty and that inadequacy were gnawing at her. And she'd do anything for that feeling in her chest to go away.
As if aware of her speechlessness, he took his first step on the stairs. Snapping out of her thought she raced to him, catching him by the hand.
"Wait! I... at least, eat something. Please," she flailed a hand towards the table she had set, "I made this all for you," she made an attempt at that smile again.
"I am not hungry," He gruffly replied and pulled his hand away.
"Sebastian!" She called, her tone rising above normal.
"What?!" He snapped back, making her flinch at his tone. "What do you want, Angelica? Why do you keep–" he bunched his palm, and the other on his briefcase squeezed more tightly as if straining for control. "Look, pack up and get some sleep, I need some peace and quite to finish what I have to do."
Angelica's eyes burned with hot tears, and she tried to hold them back as she blinked and swallowed hard, but her voice gave her away.
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice caught. A stubborn tear escaped her control, which she quickly wiped off. "I stood on my feet, tirelessly putting everything together. I put in work, Seb." Her eyes were going blind with the tears, but she struggled to keep them in.
"Can we not make it work? Can you not love me a bit more?" It was undermining, shameful to beg for attention this way, but if this is what it'd take, then she'd grovel. "I love you, Sebastian. Please, can you love me back?"
There was no pride. Her pride was gone. Logic had failed. It stood no chance. All she wanted was getting him to want and love her.
"Tell me what to do to make this work. Tell me, I'll do anything!" Now there was desperation, and even that she didn't mind.
He looked at her, his eyes cold, hard and distant. "There's nothing to do, Angelica. From the beginning, I told you my stance in this relationship. I told you I never wanted this, but you said you'd take me whatever way I was. Now you have me, what else do you want?!"
More. She wanted more. Needed more.
Yes, she remembered she had made her choice, and now she was wondering if her choice to love had been a mistake. Her first own mistake.
Something heavy fell through to her stomach as she watched him climb up those stairs. Her body trembled, not from fatigue, but from the raw taste of another failure. Another rejection. And the shaping knowledge that she might never make a man love her.