"We accept the love we think we deserve." -Stephen Chbosky
*
Alexandra's life was a portrait of contentment, its harmony seemingly unshakable. When her vengeful ex resurfaces to sow chaos, her life takes an unexpected turn. Her marriage is tested...
"Little heart-shaped petals," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. "I'd wanted the florists to cut out rose petals into hearts but rose has a quite potent smell. I chose the next alternative — artificial petals with lavender sprayed on."
She turned to him and drew up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "Thank you anyway. I appreciate the gesture, and I certainly feel loved."
"Exactly what I was aiming at." Pressing another kiss to her lips, he drew back. "Get in there and I'll bring you a change of clothes. Come downstairs when you're done, hm?"
"Okay." He gave her one more kiss, then left.
*
12:23 pm...
After the wonderful bath, she stepped out and dried off, finding the dress Trey had picked out on a hanger behind the connecting door.
After putting it on, she stepped through the connecting door into her old closet and ran a comb through her hair to untangle it, then scooped it up in a loose bun so it could air dry.
When she moved to the bathroom to deposit the towel she'd used for her hair, she found a note on the floor behind the connecting door, and realized he must have attached it to the dress. She squatted, with a bit of a difficulty, and picked it up, huffing out a breath when she straightened.
She stepped through the main door leading into the bedroom and closed it, leaning on it as she read the contents of the letter.
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She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue off Trey's desk, then clutching the note to her chest, she stepped out of their room, startled when a balloon smacked her right in the face.
She pushed it back, smiling to herself when she saw an arrow on it pointing to the opposite side. Looking straight ahead, she saw a hot pink sticky note.
Bunching her dress up with the same hand that held the letter, she moved towards the door of the room that had been hers for a time and pulled off the note, the smile never leaving her face.
I don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
Poetry.
Trey loved anything literary, and poetry was one of the things she'd never tire of him using. Admittedly, his own constructed poems were terrible, but she loved him anyway.
As soon as she took the curve towards the stairs, another sticky note stared her in the face. Without hesitating, she pulled it off to read.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body.
