The Good Wife.

~Eve.

“Happy anniversary, darling.” The small box in my hand was one of the many gifts arranged in one corner of the living room the living room. White, blue, yellow, and green gift wrappers sparkled from the corner of the room where they've been arranged, waiting for Sinclair. He would open them up later, but I wanted him to have the box first; it was my favorite among them all.

It was our anniversary, and although I single-handedly picked out all other gifts, I specially got the box custom-made for Sinclair, my husband, and the love of my life. It was a small, beautiful box made from Mahogany and rosewood with intricate carvings of flowers all over its body. It was an antique box, just like Sinclair liked his things.

Sinclair hurried into the living room, picked up his daily cup of coffee from the center table, and turned to the mirror without sparing me a glance. “What's with the gifts? What's the occasion?”

Did he forget? Again? For five years in a row, I've remembered every occasion: birthday, engagement anniversary, wedding anniversary, business launch anniversary, and I have tried my best to celebrate all of them and five years in a row, he keeps forgetting every single one of them.

The bright smile I wore since the second I woke up fell off. “It's our anniversary. Did you…did you forget?”

“Huh,” Sinclair said, checking himself out in the mirror -an act I'm certain he had done plenty of times in his room. He was so obsessed with keeping a good public image that he wouldn't even let a fly get on his suit. “Guess I forgot. I would have stopped on my way to buy you a gift, but I have a meeting, and I can't afford to be late.” He checked his watch and downed his coffee in one go.

“Oh, I didn't…I wasn't.” His thought to get me a gift was more shocking than him putting his meeting before me. That was a norm, the latter, not so much.

For years, I've been the one giving and he has been, well, neglecting. “It's fine if you don't get me a gift, I already got enough for the both of us.” He looked around the living room and nodded. And heavens, I just hoped he would turn to me for just a second.

“But before you go, I'd like you to have this. Please.”

My heart skipped a beat, my airflow cut off. For the first time in two years, my husband turned to me. To look at me.

His eyes were still the shade of gray I knew; the tiny scar just below his left eye was still there, his lips were still full, and his face was still…still perfect, just like I knew.

“What is that?” One hand held his briefcase, the other tucked in his pocket, and he scrutinized the box as though it were a ticking time bomb.

“It's a gift. For you. I got it customized specially. I'd like you to have it.” With a sigh, he dropped the briefcase at his feet and took the box, scanning it carefully. “It's locked,” I said when he tried to open it. “There is something inside for you but you can only get the key during dinner this evening.”

“Dinner?” He looked up at me with creased brows as though the idea was the least sane thing he had ever heard. “What for?”

“It's our anniversary, Sinclair. I just want us to be together as a normal couple. I booked us a reservation at Kairos, we'll be having all of their specials and your favorite dishes. Just for tonight.”

Another deep sigh, “okay.”

“Okay?” My eyes lit up with excitement. I was expecting him to turn me down with the usual ‘I can't make it today, maybe next time?’ talk.

Maybe Sinclair was changing, Maybe my husband was coming back to me. The thought that was happening filled me with brand new joy.

“Yes, I'll be back in time for dinner. Kairos, right? I'll meet you there.” He placed the box back in my hand and made to leave.

“No! Uhm… why don't you come back here and we can go there together. Just the two of us, I can drive if you want me to.”

Sinclair looked down at his watch and nodded. I could tell he was already getting tired of this conversation and was ready to leave. “Fine. I will come back here first.”

“Really?”

He raised a brow, “is that a new habit? Questioning me?”

“No. I- uhm. It's just… I was surprised. I- never mind. I will see you when you get back.”

“Yeah. See you then.”

I waited for the scent of the familiar cologne that would waft through my nose when he walked past me but it never came. He was still standing in front of me.

With his forefinger, he lifted my chin till my gaze met his. My heart sank to my stomach. For the first time in three years, I had skin contact with my husband.

“Your lips look pale, Evie.” He said as his thumb grazed softly over my lips. The butterflies I thought were dead began fluttering in my stomach, and my heartbeat doubled. He was going to kiss me.

My husband was going to kiss me!

My legs turned weak but I willed myself to be strong. I wasn't going to miss a chance of my true love's kiss. Not after this whole time apart.

“Perhaps a new shade of lipstick would make it better. I would have Anastasia pick the perfect one for you.” Just as it came, his hands vanished from my lips and he breezed past me and walked out the door, shutting the door with a soft click.

I stood there -in that spot- long after Sinclair left letting reality wash over me thoroughly.

What was I thinking?

That a simple gift would make him come back to me? A dinner reservation? Those were stupid and cliché gifts that wouldn't bring my husband back to me.

But he had almost kissed me.

A stray tear ran down my cheek, and I swiped it off immediately as pain, anger, and hurt blossomed in my chest. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Sinclair and I were supposed to be a thing.

A good thing.

Not his work, not my money. Me!

Another stray tear ran down my cheek, but before I could swipe it off again, the dam broke in my eyes, and my tears began flowing. My legs gave out. I was weak and there was no one here for me to give the impression that I wasn't. I let myself fall to the floor and allowed the tears to flow.

:>

:>

He wasn't coming.

I perched on the edge of a couch in the living room, my eyes darting between my phone and the door waiting for Sinclair to walk in or for my phone to at least ring. It was just a few minutes to nine; we were supposed to have left for the restaurant two hours ago, I was supposed to have shown him the contents of the box, and we were supposed to be on our way back here to make love.

For him to touch me and make love to me like it was our last night on earth.

All my calls went straight to voicemail and the messages I sent him remained unread. We were supposed to have had a perfect night, but yet again, he had gone and ruined it. Perhaps it was me. Maybe I chased him away with the excessive gifts.

The gifts… I looked around the living room and saw them still standing where I kept them, untouched and unshaken.

Perhaps I was not doing enough. Perhaps I was pushing him away with so much affection instead of calling him back gently.

I swiped off my tears as I unlocked my phone and began tapping on it.

Sinclair was once a man who loved me, and I believe he still does. All he did was stray from the path and just needed a reminder.

Sinclair could be a bit forgetful. All he needed was just a little reminder, I needed to remind him of the most important things in his life. Me.

Not his work, or career or whatever thing he was chasing but me, our marriage and our future together.

“Hello there, Jimmy on the line, who is calling?” The deep male voice answered once the call connected.

I took in a deep breath and exhaled through my lips. "I am calling about Sinclair Stone.”