The Enemy and I

Chapter 1

He hated me smoking. I could tell by the look on his face. Yet, he still smoked himself. Hypocritical.

I suppose he was always a traditionalist. Always moaned if we had to skip the compulsory Sunday dinner. Never arrived late, always was on time - the Germans are known for their punctuality. But he married an English women. That is what always surprises me, there is always a new side to him that I learn everyday. I still remember the day he took me home to his mutter, I have to give her some credit, she did at least try to act happy. Yet, her creased, plastic smile shone of disappointment. 

He may be a traditionalist in most peoples eyes, but he is more of a romanticist truly. 

"Don't give me that look, Claus" I smirked whilst avoiding eye contact and taking pleasure in the rebellion. I scraped the match off the side of the kitchen matchbox and took delight in lighting the very thing that defied my stereotype and husband. I perched down on a icy bench of peeling paint.

"You really don't make yourself look lady-like doing that, mein Schatz" He took pleasure in teasing me before lighting his own cigarette and joining me. It was clear from the deceivingly intimidating eyes of blue. 

"I couldn't give a damn" I emphasised the harsh German sounds to make my message clearer. I inhaled and exhaled whilst taking in the beautifully kept garden of our home whilst Claus cautiously placed a tartan blanket over my shoulders. It was winter, and a very foggy, bitter morning. The flowers were coming towards the end of their season, but our gardener was already tackling it as if his life was depending on it. Well, I suppose it is his income - so it probably does. The lake was inviting birds from all areas, all resting atop of the rippling water, or amongst the water-reefs. 

It was also the morning of our two-year wedding anniversary. We had planned it for three months. It had started as a large venue, that we could rent out but, later on, we decided we weren't the excessive couple we anticipated and opted for a more chilled, classy party. Schumann and Wagner playing in the background as quietly as I could turn it down without getting caught. German music was the one thing I hadn't adapted myself to. Claus is incredibly proud of his German heritage. I remember the day I met him, I was strolling through a library in awe of it's beauty and he caught me off guard. He was incredibly tall, with dark hair neatly gelled back, a few pieces hanging over his brows slightly. He had thick, dark eyebrows that framed the delicacy of his blue eyes.

-

"The German's have a good eye" He stated boldly staring at me whilst I did not batter my eyelids in his direction and focused my attention on the beautiful architecture - the vast ceiling with murals plastered all over. There was an element of flirtation in his voice, as if he was aiming what he had said at me rather than the building.

"And the English?" I defended my country whilst revealing my nationality and turning my attention the the handsome stranger by my side. 

"The English.." He smiled in gratitude of my response and moved closer to stand by my side, gazing to the ceiling. "The English are very talented writers but I can't say I have ever been to England myself"

"Ah, well I'm afraid that is called being biased" I enjoyed confronting him and provided a grin. 

There was a moment of silence where we both took in the beauty of the library and it's intimidatingly high ceilings. 

"Claus Klein" He offered his hand out and faced me. "Incase you were wondering" he smirked.

"Klein.." I flicked through the little German in my head that I had taught myself before coming to the trip in search of a translation whilst politely rejecting the hand. "Small? Is that correct?"