01.

ASHLEY.

I painted my lips bold red. Kellan loved red. It was the color I was wearing when we first met.

I hummed as I checked my reflection in the mirror for the twenty-seventh time. I fell in love with the woman staring back at me. 

It had been months since I dressed up like this, truly dressed up. Not for the gala's that bored me, not for a charity event, but for a date. A very special date. 

I wore my best everything: a deep crimson gown that shimmered beautifully under the light; the dress was tailored. It hugged my upper body before cinching at the waist and cascading into a flare that swept the floor. A daring slit ran up my right leg to my mid-thigh.

My hair was swept into an elegant updo by my most trusted stylist, Around my neck hung a dainty diamond pendant. I dusted and slipped into my Italian red-soled shoes that I had only ever worn once.

Tonight was going to be perfect.

“The restaurant ma'am?” My chauffeur asked as I walked down the stairs. I had given him the address earlier.

“Yes, Paul,” I chirped with a face-splitting grin. “How is little Evie?” I asked.

Evie was Paul's three-year-old daughter; I loved having the little girl around. She was full of energy and joy, with an infectious laughter that always made my day. My hand instinctively went to my still-flat stomach.

Paul's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter. “The little whirlwind has me and my wife constantly on our toes,” he said with a fond chuckle.

My smile widened to what my mother would have said was ‘Ungracious of a lady of status.’

“It must be a beautiful thing,” I said softly.

Paul gave a warm, fatherly smile. “It is ma'am. It is”

I could barely sit still in the backseat as he pulled out of the driveway. I smoothed my dress over my thighs, my pulse ticking higher with every mile covered. I had made the reservation myself and gone through every single detail. The wine, the corner booth, the special dessert, and the big announcement.

I wanted tonight to be special. I wanted Kellan to see me, and remember us.

Tonight will be different. It won't be like all the dates he missed. Kellan had promised to come. He was in a hurry to leave this morning when I reminded him.

~~

“You better not miss tonight's dinner, or you'll come back to meet all your expensive suits in the trash,” I threatened him half jokingly.

Kellan had smiled at me while adjusting one of those expensive suits. My stomach flipped. His smile had become a rare thing over the years. “I won't Ash. I promise.”

~~

I held on to Kellan's promise. I chose not to accept the possibility that he might not show up; if I did, my mood would turn sour, and I didn't want that. Not tonight.

Paul pulled up in front of the restaurant, the golden glow and lights of the five-star establishment spilling onto the pavement. I stepped out, my heels clicking against the stone as a doorman welcomed me with a smile.

Inside, the restaurant was as beautiful as the review and photos online promised; the lighting was soft and romantic, exactly the vibe I wanted. A pianist played something soft and elegant in the background, I smiled at the tune. Maybe I'll ask Kellan to dance with me once he arrives.

Maybe he'll agree, too.

“Mrs. Langston,” the restaurant manager greeted me, his smile was polite with recognition. “Right this way please.”

“Thank you,” I answered warmly, feeling my insides gliding like honey.

I followed him through the restaurant. I could barely hold my excitement. It was the first time in months, maybe even years that I was light on my feet, that I smiled for more than ten minutes stretch.

As we walked past, people turned to look at me. I saw the appreciation and awe on their faces; it made me feel seen, but I needed Kellan's appreciation, and he was late.

I shook my head. It was just eleven minutes past eight. It doesn't count as late yet, or so I told myself.

“Your table, Mrs. Langston.” The regional manager gestured to the table, pulling out my seat.

My table was perfect. I had requested a private corner booth that offered a perfect view of the city through tall glass windows. A single rose rested in a vase on the table. The wine I had selected was already waiting. Everything was perfect.

Except Kellan wasn’t here. Yet.

“Thank You...George” I thanked him and read his name tag.

I smoothed my dress as I sat, checking my reflection in the small mirror I carried in my clutch. Make that twenty-eight.

My smile didn't wane as I waited. The waiter poured some white wine, and I nodded politely, and then I checked my phone.

He’s probably stuck in traffic, I told myself. I watched as a couple fussed over each other, laughing like they were the only ones here, something inside my heart twisted.

“It's alright, Ash,” I whispered to myself. “He's just caught up in traffic, nothing more.”

Fifteen minutes passed.

The fussing couple paid their check and left. I didn't touch the wine, I had only ordered it because Kellan loved white wine.

Thirty minutes.

I folded and unfolded the napkin on my lap. Every time the door opened, my heart leaped, only to drop back down when it wasn't my husband. My smile began to tighten.

An hour.

Still no text. No call. No Kellan. 

I was beginning to get angry. I tightened my hold on the napkin and placed a call to Kellan. His phone rang once and twice, but he didn't answer.

I stared at my screen, the back of my eyes stung. I had hoped tonight would be different. Kellan had made it a habit to miss our monthly dates, Friday movie night, and other traditions we had as a couple.

Months ago, I had given up altogether, but when I got the message from my OB/GYN yesterday, I felt hope ignite inside of me.

A waiter approached, snapping me out of my sad thoughts before I could embarrass myself and cry here.

“Your dessert ma'am.” 

I managed a smile as he dropped the cake on my table. It was rich chocolate—my favorite, the frosting was scripted with the big news.

               

                   ‘Another Langston on the way.’

I blinked back the tears. This moment was the only thing I had been thinking about since yesterday. I had rehearsed countless times. A lump formed in my throat.

If Kellan was here, I would have held his hands as the waiter brought the cake; we would have laughed and cried and started dreaming all over, just like six years ago.

But Kellan wasn’t here.

With trembling fingers, I pulled out the small candle from my clutch and set it gently in the center of the cake. The waiter lit it.

I stared at the flickering flame for a long moment and th

en whispered my wish before leaning in and blowing it out.

A wish made in silence, loneliness, and pain.