Only then did Cecilia remember it was her birthday. Slightly irked, she said, “We should’ve invited my brother and Rena. The more, the merrier.”
She eyed the sumptuous feast.
It looked delectable.
Mark gazed at Cecilia, who remained blissfully unaware. Yet, this naivete was what endeared her to him.
She had always been his Cecilia, his treasure.
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He walked over, gently wrapped his arms around her thin waist, and said gently, “Go to the bedroom to have a look.”
When Mark spoke, his breath warmed Cecilia’s ear, tickling her.
Cecilia glanced at him, her eyes heavy with unspoken thoughts, understood only by those involved.
Mark wrapped his arms around her, guiding her into the bedroom.
Inside, black long-stemmed roses blanketed the room.
Each one, air-freighted from far away, bore dew on its petals, their dark beauty a stark contrast.
A light blue box sat on the white bed sheet.
Drawn to it, Cecilia ran her fingers over the flowers and then the box, her voice dropping.
“Did you prepare all these?”
Mark embraced her from behind, brushing her long hair aside.
He then murmured in her ear, “Every time you wear my black shirt after we’re together, you remind me of these black roses.”
His words overwhelmed Cecilia.
Yet, she adored them. It was something any woman would.
Resting against Mark’s chest, she allowed his kisses for a moment.
“Is the dress all you got for me?”
Mark’s laughter was light.
“There’s more to come.”
Cecilia turned, draping her arm over his shoulder.
“Help me change.”