The death Of Mrs Ross

Unravel

I remembered it clearly

The kitchen was dimly lit by small white candles, specifically placed all over the counters and the table. They each had their own scents; vanilla, almond and mint, mingling with each other like cake batter in the atmosphere

It was magical, really. A sight I saw as a sign for a better future. A brighter one, a better version. I never thought of the flames as danger, a cautious entity that could burn the house down because of one simple, stupid mistake. I thought of them as the light I needed to see through the pitch black of my tunnel

I had never been more wrong

Every other space that wasn't occupied by the candles sprouted with roses. Roses still attached to their vines, as if they had grown in the kitchen one day and grew into a red and green forest. The vines were even draped over the curtains

As I sat there, surrounded by a sea of the most romantic decorations, consumed by the ambiance and taken aback by the person responsible for it all, Paris had other plans

"Do you like it?" He whispered in my ear

I could practically see the smile pasted on his face by the way he spoke. His warm breath tickled my ear, causing a shudder. I held onto his arm, wanting to make sure I wasn't dreaming

"Yes, Of course I do" I said breathlessly. Paris went on to kiss my neck "But, it's not our anniversary"

Even though I had forgotten my birthday, I was normally not one to forget easily. I knew the day Paris put the ring on my finger, I couldn't forget that, even if I wanted too. It was the worst month of my life. October. Specifically the twenty fifth

Paris separated himself from me. I was about to look back to see what he was doing when he told me not to move. I could hear his footsteps but I had no clue where he was

"Yeah. I know" He replied

I heard him shuffling things around behind me, and what I assumed to be glasses clanking together

"But I thought it would best to celebrate it early"

A bunch of questions filled my mind, all of them leading to more confusion "Can I ask why?"

Paris returned to my side, and handed me a glass of what looked like white wine. As I tried to take it, however, he refused to let go. I tugged on it, and looked up at him questionably. It was then, that I got my answer

"I have a meeting in London" Paris revealed, deciding to rip the band-aid off quickly

My shoulders slacked with disappointment "Oh"

Paris let go of the glass and sat down on the only other chair that wasn't decorated. He placed his glass on the table and pulled his chair closer to me using my legs. His hands stayed there

"Don't do that" He squeezed my thighs

"Don't do what?"

"You're disappointed"

I shrugged and forced a smile "No. I'm just shocked. You said "I'm" not "We". I usually go to these meetings with you, don't I?" I took a long sip of the drink, finding out it was actually champagne

I paused and frowned

Champagne? Wasn't that alcoholic?

"It's non-alcoholic champagne, Morgan. They exist" Paris answered my question just by looking at my face

Sometimes I wondered if I was easily readable or if Paris was just that good. He always seemed to know if I was lying or not, what I was thinking about, how I was feeling, without even trying. I nodded and took another sip. Now that I knew I wouldn't get drunk from this, I wouldn't drown in it either