Types of people : flowers

Cynthia (hyacinth)

He stepped out of the car, checking the time on his wristwatch. 10.15 am. The house is quiet. The curtains are open, allowing morning light into the house. The sliding doors are slightly open as well, letting the wind dance with the white curtain; a sign she's there. He closed the house gate, went straight to the sliding door, unbothered to get through the house main door.

Is she working? He wondered to himself as he got closer to the sliding door. There's music playing. I Love the Way You Love Me by John Michael Montgomery. One of her favorite 90's music, playing through the small speaker he gave to her last year, at her work station. She had always loved the 90's music. If she was feeling great, she would even pulled his arm from the work he's doing and force him to follow her steps as she danced through the living room. He tiptoed, hiding behind the door, planning to surprise as she tried focusing on her work. It has been his favorite as she jumped out her chair and flails her arms while screaming things randomly. It was funny, and cute. Though sometimes he did cross the limits and had to make her brownies to make up.

He slowly creep in, planning to scream out her name but she wasn't there. A bit disappointed, but where is she? Her workstation is a mess with pencils, color pens and pencils and papers used for drafting but the chair was empty. He stepped in, looking around for her. A new sets of stationery was on the small table by her workstation. A small smile appears on his lips. He bought her the stationery sets yesterday as they went for grocery shopping. She only wanted to take a look, she said as they stopped by the new book store. But she kept on looking on the sets, analyzing it and said she "would like to have it but not now" and kept on coming back to the section. When he said he would pay it for her as a gift, her face just brighten up. Gummy smile across her face as she hugged the sets until they reach home. How he loved that smile and he would do anything to keep it, though her being angry is cute as well.

He turned around as he heard a sleepy groan from sofa. There she was, sleeping soundly with a stylus in her hand and her working tablet on the floor. He sat down on the floor by her side, removing the stylus and her glasses, putting it on top of the coffee table. She was always clumsy with her glasses. She hated it, saying it made her look old. When they first met, she was wearing glasses with gold necklaces around her neck, white vintage blouse and ankle cuff jeans, looking all bubbly. As years goes by, she stopped wearing them, started wearing eye contacts and more eye make ups. He told her more than a thousand times, she look fine with them but she was stubborn.

He stroke her bright blonde hair softly through the loose curls of her hair. It was soft and smelled sweet. She took a long shower before he left this morning to check on his shop. She was determined not to fall asleep, she said. She wanted to finish all her work today so that she could go to her parents', celebrating her dad's birthday on the weekend. She was so determined that she stayed up too late, leaving her snoring right now due to tiredness of the whole night. She was her dad's little princess, the only daughter in the family. She's close enough to her dad that they had similar tastes in almost everything other than fashion and food. Her dad accepted him as the son-in-law from the pies he made for him.

He runs his thumb softly on her cheeks and her eyes. "Ughh," she groaned. He stifled a chuckle. He laid his head on the sofa, watching her closely as she fell into what might be a long nap for the day. He should wake her up but he didn't want to disturb her sleep. She might woke up, angrily mumbling at him after this for not waking her up. And he would make her brownies and milk, then she would help making her dad's favorite apple pie. He knew everything about her, mostly. After years of being together, getting married and he wished it to be forever. She's his beloved Cynthia anyway.