A mountain of presents, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with extravagant bows, threatened to topple over on the far side of the room. On the mahogany table, a sea of cards gleamed under the soft light. I picked one up, its edges embossed with a delicate silver pattern. The familiar, pointed handwriting of Vivienne, one of Regan's business associates' wives made me almost sigh in dismay.
"Dearest Anastasia," the card gushed, the words shimmering with fake sincerity. "Happy Birthday! Wishing you all the joy and fortune you deserve. Perhaps we can schedule that charity luncheon we discussed? Regan mentioned such a wonderful idea..." The card fluttered from my grasp, landing face down on the floor. Charity. Luncheon. Always something they wanted.
“As expected,” I muttered.
The silence swallows the room, the only sound is the relentless ticking of the clock. My fingertips painted a crimson danced a nervous rhythm around the stem of my wine glass. The heavy damask drapes, a deep shade of merlot, pooled on the floor like spilled blood. A ruby pendant, the matching set to the earrings adorning my ears, dangled from a delicate silver chain around my neck, catching the flickering light and throwing a series of tiny red suns across the mahogany table.
Red, it had always been red. a bold choice. The color of passion, of power. but red was always my shield, my armor against the world.
I looked at the food on the long table in front of me. I had spent hours preparing the meal, a feast fit for two, but once again, Regan was nowhere to be found. The candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, mocking the loneliness that engulfed me. Tears threatened to spill as I realized another birthday would pass with me being alone.
As if on cue, Susan, our head housekeeper, a tall woman in her fifties with kind eyes and silver hair that was pulled back into a neat bun that showed off her calm demeanor appeared at the door. She had been with my family for as long as I could remember.
She extended a small box towards me swathed in red paper and ribbon. "For you, Miss”
"Is this from grandpa?" My voice wavered slightly as I took the box.
Susan nodded in response.
As I carefully untied the ribbon and opened the envelope, a small letter from my grandfather greeted me. His words were penned with a tenderness that brought a lump to my throat.
I know you still cannot play the piano, but I believe that you can someday. I remember how you wanted books swirled to collect music books when you were young. I hope you include this in your collection someday.
Happy birthday, Anastasia.
-Grandpa Alonso
I reached for the lid of the box and lifted it, revealing a beautifully bound music book inside. My heart skipped a beat as I ran my fingers over the intricate design on the cover. But I cannot use it right now or anytime soon.
"Bring it to the piano room, please,"
Susan's eyes reflected a sadness I knew all too well, but she nodded silently. Then one of our maids approached, her footsteps tentative. "Miss, Atty. Morgan is here to see you."
I sighed, the weight of the decision I had been avoiding for ages pressing down on me once again. "Send him in.”
Moments later, Atty. Morgan entered the room, his demeanor smooth and confident as ever. He was an old man of average height, with a neatly trimmed beard that added to his distinguished appearance. His dark suit was impeccably tailored, and his eyes, sharp and intelligent, seemed to take in everything at a glance.
"Ah, my dear, it's a pleasure to see you again.”
“Atty. Morgan, it's always good to see you. Please, have a seat." I nodded curtly; my gaze fixed on the papers he held in his hands. "What brings you here today, Morgan?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"You know why I am here today, Miss Anastasia. We have been doing this for years now.” He took a seat across from me as his gaze went around the room. “And for years, no one is still here to celebrate your birthday with you.”
“That is not true. You always visit me thus making you there on my birthdays.”
“Yes, but only to bring the papers for the inheritance your mother left you," he pushed the documents towards me. "It's time to settle this matter once and for all, Miss Anastasia."
My fingers hovered over the papers. "I'm well aware of my mother's wishes, Morgan. But this is a significant decision."
"You know your mother's wishes, Miss. It's time to honor her memory and secure your future."
I bit back any sign of hesitation. “This is not about guilt. It’s about timing and strategy.”
He sighed as if expecting a formal answer and stood up, taking the papers with him. “I have been your mother’s lawyer for years. And I know she would never want you to blame yourself for what happened. It is not your fault.”
“Thank you, Attorney.”
“Happy birthday, Miss Anastasia” he softly said and left the room.
As the door closed behind Atty. Morgan, I slumped back into my chair, the weight of his words heavy on my shoulders. The room felt emptier now.
The Stasia's Legacy Gallery and Anastasia Hope Foundation were the two things my mother left in my name. I was 15 years old when she took her own life. Something I witnessed before my eyes. My family blamed me for it, and I also did the same.
Hours passed in a blur, the hands of the clock ticking away the moments until it was well past midnight. Yet, I remained seated at the table.
"Miss, would you like me to reheat your meal?" Susan asked.
I shook my head and reached for the bottle of red wine, pouring myself another glass. The alcohol burned as it slid down my throat. The pain of three years of marriage without a single celebration weighed heavily on me. Regan had never once remembered my birthday or any other important occasion.
“No need. Thank you”
“You should sleep now, Miss.”
I took the silver steak knife. As I held it up, I caught a glimpse of myself. My reflection stared back. My dark hair accentuated by the sharp angles of my jawline, was left loose, cascading down my back in a mane of midnight waves. My jade-like green eyes, usually pools of icy control, held a storm of unshed tears threatening to break. The crimson lipstick, my usual armor of strength and confidence, seemed a shade paler tonight, mirroring the pallor of my skin. But the tremor in my hand was the only betrayal I'd allow. This was my storm to weather alone.
"Do you ever think there's something wrong with me, Susan?" I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them.
"Oh, my dear, you are perfect just the way you are.”
“Am I?” I put down the steak knife and reached for a cigarette. "Funny, isn't it? How my husband sees the opposite,"
“That’s not true, Miss.”
The smoke swirled around me as I exhaled. "I'll be fine, Susan. You should go get some rest now."
"Are you sure? I don't mind staying a little longer."
"No, really. I will just finish this glass and then I'll head to bed," I said, gesturing towards the wine in my hand.
Reluctantly, Susan nodded, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before she finally agreed. "Alright then. But please, do not hesitate to call if you need anything," she said softly before turning to leave the room.
As the door closed behind her, I sat in silence for a few moments. With a sigh, I finally set my glass down, the room spinning slightly as I stood up. Despite the dizziness, I knew I had a high tolerance for alcohol – it had become my only companion after years of disappointment and heartache. As I made my unsteady way across the room, I couldn't help but reflect on the irony of it all. Here I was, celebrating another year of life with nothing but a bottle of wine to keep me company.
With shaky steps, I left the dining room behind, my wine glass clutched tightly in my hand. The familiar path to the piano room seemed longer tonight. As I pushed open the door, the soft glow of moonlight illuminated the grand piano sitting majestically in the center of the room. With a heavy heart, I crossed the threshold, the cool air of the room wrapping around me.Sinking onto the chair in front of the piano, I reached out to press a key, but my trembling fingers betrayed me. Tears blurred my vision as I wiped them away, the ache in my heart threatening to consume me once again.I was once a pianist prodigy but after witnessing my mother die in front of me, in my piano room, I cannot press a key ever since. I can clearly remember that day like it happened yesterday. It was raining so hard and my mother jumped on the balcony just the time a clash of thunder echoed in the room.“Why would you even do that, Mom?” I raised the glass to my lips and drank deeply, the warmth of the wine
As I made my way to the kitchen, I tried to push aside the lingering sense of hurt and betrayal that lingered in the back of my mind. With weak hands, I set about preparing the table for breakfast.Susan approached me with a concerned expression etched on her face. "Miss, you should really rest. You've looked not okay.”I offered her a weak smile as I focused on the breakfast table, "I am fine, Susan.”When I heard Regan's footsteps descending the stairs, I plastered on a cheerful smile. "Good morning. I've made breakfast. Won't you join me?"But he merely stared at the spread before him, his expression unreadable as he brushed past me without a word."Not hungry," he muttered, his tone dismissive as he made his way towards the door.Desperate to reach him, I seized the coffee pot and held it out to him. "Please, just take a sip,"But before I could react, his hand collided with the coffee pot, sending scalding liquid splashing towards me. I cried out in pain as the hot liquid seared
I walked into the cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the sound of chatter and laughter. It was one of my favorite spots in the city. Include her long floral dress with red heels, red nails, and red lipstick. I wore a long floral dress that fluttered around my ankles as I moved, paired with red heels that clicked softly against the tiled floor. My red nails and matching red lipstick completed the look, a stark contrast to my black hair, which framed my face like a dark halo. My green eyes scanned the cafe, taking in the familiar sights and sounds.The door chimed as I entered, and a familiar security guard snapped to attention. "Welcome, Ma'am," he greeted me with a respectful bow.With a small smile, I thanked him and made my way towards my usual table in the corner. The booth, nestled against a bookshelf overflowing with travel guides and well-loved novels. Today, however, the table wasn't empty. My grandfather sat there, his back ramrod straight despite his age, a
As I waited near the entrance of the mall, a familiar figure approached with an energy that could rival the sun. Sheila practically bounded towards me.Her curly hair, a riot of chestnut curls, framed her face in a wild halo, bouncing with every step she took. Her eyes, a warm shade of hazel, reflected the joy she found in even the simplest of moments. Sheila was like a ray of sunshine."Hey, birthday girl!" she exclaimed, as she linked her arm through mine. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be here on your actual birthday. I had that seminar; you know how it is.""I understand. Doctors are always busy"She grinned. "Today, I'm buying you a new dress to make up for missing your birthday!""Really? Anything I want?" I teased, knowing full well she wouldn't back down from the challenge."Anything!""Alright then, I'm choosing something ridiculously expensive.”To my surprise, she merely pouted. "Fine, be that way," she huffed, before breaking into a giggle. “But not ridiculously expensive, okay?
As Zarina and Regan glanced in our direction, panic shot through me. My stomach churned, churning so violently I thought I might vomit. Without a second thought, I grabbed Sheila's arm, my grip tight and desperate."Come on," I hissed, pulling her away from the scene with a force that surprised even myself.We weaved through the throngs of people, my legs moving on autopilot. I just needed to get away, to escape before I crumbled. Once we were safely hidden behind a pillar, out of sight from the escalator, I finally stopped, my body trembling uncontrollably.Sheila turned to me, her eyes wide with concern. "Did you know they were seeing each other?""No," I croaked, the single word scraping raw against my throat. As we hurried out of the mall, my steps pounded against the floor. My breath hitched in my throat. Hot tears pricked at the back of my eyelids, threatening to spill over. But I wouldn't allow it. Like an instinct, I blinked back the stinging moisture, forcing my vision
Sheila’s gasp was a sharp intake of breath. “Are you crazy, Anastasia?! He betrayed you, and lied to you! How can you even think about protecting something so rotten?”“Maybe I am,”“Tasia, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You deserve so much more than this. More than a love that makes you feel like this, more than a man who doesn’t cherish you.” She took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a low growl. “You should leave that bastard right now! Pack your bags, walk out that door, and never look back!”“I can’t leave him, Sheila. Not now. I still love him.”“Did you know he was cheating on you?” Sheila asked, her voice laced with a quiet fury.I met her gaze with a heavy heart. “Yes. I knew there might have been someone else, but I never imagined it would be Zarina.” “I can’t believe he did this to you,” Sheila gritted in anger. “That bastard. I swear, I will kill him if I ever see him!”When I remained silent, she sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. “So, I guess
With a forced smile that felt brittle on my lips, I walked to my designated seat at the far end of the table. The vast expanse of mahogany between us felt like an insurmountable distance. We ate in a tense silence, the only sounds were the clinking of silverware against China and the labored breaths I couldn't quite control.My appetite was nonexistent. But I forced myself to pick at my food. Halfway through the meal, I could feel Regan's gaze burning into me. In the past, I would make any remark designed to draw him into conversation. But tonight, the words wouldn't come. The image of his hand intertwined with Zarina's, the warmth in his eyes that had been absent for far too long, choked the words back down. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Anastasia,"I ignored him, staring intently at the floral pattern on my plate. The urge to scream, to throw my wine glass across the table, warred with the strange paralysis that gripped me.Regan cleared his throat again, louder this time. "A
Days passed in a blur of empty routines and forced smiles. But as the sun rose on another day, I pushed aside the memories of what I saw in the mall. Of what I and Regan talked about. I promised myself I would try everything I have on this marriage.And that involves staying and giving everything I have. Including chances.As I stirred from my fitful slumber, the weight of exhaustion pulling at my limbs, I found myself greeted by the sight of Regan still sleeping beside me. It was a rare occurrence.His features softened. With each rise and fall of his chest, I couldn't help but admire the sculpted contours of his physique, the gentle curve of his jawline and the way his tousled hair fell in disarray across his forehead. Regan slept with a sense of ease, his chest rising and falling in a steady. The absence of a shirt allowed me to appreciate the taut muscles of his torso. As I watched him, a sense of admiration washed over me. I couldn't help but be drawn to him, to the man who is st