[cork] if birthday wishes were hugs and kisses [tag; evie]

Serendipity.

There had been a time when Wolfgang wouldn’t have believed his choices mattered, that everything happened the way it did for a reason. A time when he was tainted by his own sorrows and weighed down by his fears, but that was so long ago. It appeared more a hazy dream then recent memory. The man had never been a romantic at heart. He had never been thoughtful or compassionate after his time at Hogwarts. After his many losses and those distant failures.  Yet, somehow, he had found his way to happiness. To a love in which he did not feel judged or the need to change. It was funny how small occurrences and chance encounters could manifest into something lasting – into something real. He smiled to himself as he thought back over the course of what was their love story. He had never truly been a romantic but for her he wanted to do romantic things.

The man whistled softly as he filled the bird feeders in the space dedicated to his collections of birds. His gentle melody was repeated around him and it caused his smile to widen. Often, he took to this room to clear his head and work through whatever problem arose in his life. But he wasn’t here for his worries and woes, no, he had come to give his wife a bit longer to sleep. After all it was her birthday. He woke early, even before his birds, and made his way to the master bedroom where she slept. Wolfgang stood in the doorway for what he knew to be too long before he crossed the frame into the space. It was the farthest into the room he had been in some time. His eyes fell upon her and the awe in his expression wasn’t hidden because she often made him speechless. Her beauty often made him breathless and the fact that she carried their future only deepened that beauty.

His eyes had traced over the line of her nose, the arch in her lips and the pattern of her freckles and the man felt his longing. He missed the moments when their life had been easy, when they had laughed and joked about. This was of his doing, his insecurities of a man he had once said were inconsequential had caused him to distance himself. Wolfgang tried his best to appear as nothing had changed blaming his sleeping arrangements on late night and paperwork. He had forgiven her, but his pride made it hard for him to say so, for him to act as if he had. Yet, as he stood in the still just before dawn his pride didn’t matter. Slowly the man moved to gently ease himself onto the bed so that he could lean and place a kiss to her stomach just over the stomach.

“Hey there...” he whispered as he glanced to be sure Genevieve hadn’t stirred from her sleep. “...today is a special day for mommy so we have to be good boys today.” His hand moved out to rest over her stomach, “We have to work together to make sure it’s the best day ever. So, I’ll handle the wooing and you should rest most of the day. I promise to feed you whatever you crave and tonight if mommy lets me, I’ll rub her stomach and read from our favorite book.” Once more he leaned and kissed her stomach before he slowly moved from the bed. Wolfgang stood as he had in the doorway for a few moments simply watching her sleep, wishing that he had woken next to her everyday since their fight. “I love you.” He whispered to her as he had in the past when he was afraid of being open about those feelings.

From her room the man had made his way to what was coined the bird room to spend the remainder of his time while he waited. She often woke at the same time and so he had her favorite breakfast prepared to be delivered to her in bed. On the tray next to the note that told her to meet him in the bird room when she was ready was a long rectangular neatly wrapped gift. Inside the box nestled in a bed of blue velvet rested a necklace with a love bird perched at the end. Beneath his own shirt he wore the match to hers, it was homage to his first set of birds. Given to him just after their time at the wedding to remind him that some love lasted a lifetime and was not simply replaced. It was a start to their adventure of the day.

He had once told her the story of his mother gifting him the love birds and Wolfgang remembered the moment, he thought of pulling the pair apart. He and Genevieve had broken up, or rather she had ended things, and he couldn’t stand the sight of the cuddling birds. They reminded him what he had lost but it had been those same birds that reminded him she was worth fighting for. Those same birds slept in their master bedroom so that if ever he forgot how deeply he loved her they would be there as the truth he had often feared. He loved her far more than he could put into words and it was that love that made him irrational. This walk through their love story the man had planned would remind them both that some love was lasting.

His gaze shifted as he heard the door and Wolfie smiled a real smile that dented his cheeks and sent sparkles to his eyes. “Happy birthday beautiful. I hope breakfast was to your liking?” He felt nervous much like that teen had had once been. His palmed itched slightly and his brows felt as if they were on the verge of sweating. As she always did, she made his heart speed up and his breath stilled as his eyes ran over her slowly. “I do hope you haven’t made lasting plans with your friends; I’d like to steal you away. I have some making up to do and I would like to do it properly.”

  @Genevieve Reinhardt   

It had been some time since Genevieve had been able to sleep comfortably throughout the night, the sleepless nights that had plagued her during her time at the Grosvenor estate had more or less been replaced by extensive, vivid adventures that reflected the serenity she experienced in her daily reality. In fact, if Genevieve referred to her journal she would find that it revealed no reminders of her father’s imprisonment or fears of the terrible fate that might befall her in the future but rather a strange sensation of contentment, one she often had a difficult time describing. What exactly was this feeling of fulfillment and how had her decisions thus far led her to the man that had the ability to coax it from her with such ease? How could one person make her feel so protected and how long before the irrational terror that often consumed her thoughts made its routine appearance?  These were thoughts that often plagued her mind but unlike before, the young witch had very little time to fixate on such obsessions, how could she when the man that had made all such thoughts disappear pulled her from her brooding mind before they pulled her along too far? Would the events of the last few months change the outcome of their gamble at love?

Things had been far from simple in the last few months, no matter how happy. After the incident with Nicholas, words had been exchanged that created distance between them; Wolfgang was rightfully suspicious, the witch had a tendency to make choices for the both of them without truly thinking things through. To make matters worse, she often spoke of her relationship with Nicholas with an unnecessary level of secrecy with often exacerbated matters, in reality, apart from holding her hand and leading her through restaurants by cupping the small of her back, Nicholas had not gotten anywhere close to any other part of her, Genevieve simply did not allow it. And rather than take responsibility for her behavior, it had always seemed much better to exaggerate the truth, twist it into something that would make him angry rather than incite his compassion. It had been one of the many nasty habits she had acquired in her youth, living with the Grosvenors had often felt like a very complex game of manipulation in which one party sought to twist reality in order to pinpoint the other’s weakness. While Genevieve might have been unphased by his distance in the past, it consumed her with worry that she had disappointed him in the same way that she might have felt when she did something that upset her father. If love reduced her to such a pitiable position, how would she or the miracle within her survive for several more months?

Nevertheless, in his own way, Wolfgang was as forgiving as he was ruthless and though there was a definite strain in their relationship, knowing that he would soon become a father changed him. “Effie?” she called out to her maid as the woman scurried about the room, preparing it for her mistress’ awakening. “Did Wolfie ever come to bed last night?” she inquired, her eyes trained on the ceiling as she considered whether she might have remembered him being there in the early morning. But the side of his bed felt cold and unslept in and as Genevieve ran her hand along the cool blanket before forcing herself to wake up, she considered that he may never want to sleep in the room with her again. “No, Mrs. Reinhardt, I believe he stated something along the lines of work and was in his office quite late,” she offered sympathetically, the tone verging on something that Genevieve did not feel comfortable with her expressing in this situation: pity. Taking a deep breath, she shrugged the thought away, her hand moving along her nightgown to rest on her stomach. After several months now, the child had grown considerably and though she did not show as much as she might have had she eaten as much as she was supposed to, the small bump was more precious than anything else.

“You’re up rather early, aren’t you, birdie?” she commented lightly, her hand pressing against her abdomen as a small flutter traveled along her side. Genevieve had taken to calling her son “Birdie” with much affection, not yet having had the opportunity or the courage to bring up the baby’s name with her husband. It was not as if he would ignore her should she inquire but Genevieve often kept to herself in regards to the pregnancy unless he explicitly asked, the antiquated idea that it was a woman’s job to deal with it as it was a woman’s struggle preventing her from expressing herself as freely as she might have wished. As she looked around the room, a tray in the corner immediately grabbed her interest, the veranda has been opened and on the table before it was a tray filled with her favorite fruit, toast, jam, and her precious mint tea. Even now, the morning sickness had yet to abate therefore she had found it rather difficult to eat hot meals but the thought of eating strawberries and watermelon for the rest of her life sounded extremely appealing to both her and the baby and as she tucked into her meal with much joy, she noticed the box on the table, hesitant to open it.

“Happy Birthday, mistress,” Effie said quietly as she arranged the table for her, Genevieve managing to smile only slightly in appreciation, probably the most that she was willing to give the other woman. She had almost forgotten that it was today and wondered what the day might bring her. “Is this from…?” she wondered briefly, the maid’s curt nod in response enough to make her open the present with much excitement. It was a necklace, one of incredible craftsmanship, something only someone like Wolfgang would have been able to obtain at what she assumed to have a considerable price. She observed it closely, unsure of what it meant but appreciative of it all the same, her nimble fingers putting it on with practiced ease, the cold metal felt foreign around her neck but brought her much happiness, hoping that it was a symbol of what would soon be their reverting to the way things were.

Once Effie revealed that her husband expected her in the bird room, she dropped the piece of toast she had slattered with jam, and made her way over immediately, not bothering with the fact that her nightgown was probably not proper attire to carry on about in the estate with the onlooking staff. It did not matter to her, like a child on Christmas morning, the young witch could not get to her lover fast enough, the smile on his face greeting her and making her feel warm inside, secure, the way only he had always been able to do. “I’m twenty years old, today, a complete adult,” she noted as if he did not already know. “Of course, I wasn’t aware that you were paying attention to how much my habits had…changed,” she said, though a little embarrassed by her own statement. Moving closer to him, she leaned in to kiss his cheek gently, unable to keep herself from doing so.

“I would have very much liked if you had come to me in the morning, my darling, as much as I love seeing Effie’s face,” she smirked, her tone quite sarcastic, “I noticed you didn’t come to bed last night—” she said, muttering the end just a little as she looked away towards the birds, pretending that it did not affect her as much as it had. “I haven’t made any plans, I’m much too old for birthday parties, aren’t I?” she teased, “So I’m all yours, for whatever you’d like to do, maybe we could have dinner if you’re not much too preoccupied with work tonight?” she offered. "And...something after," she trailed off, unsure of how one approached the subject after what felt like an eternity of involuntary celibacy.

Regardless of how they spent the day together, Genevieve was simply content with the idea that she would be close to him, the man she had loved for such a long time.

Wolfgang could admit that he was a jealous man; that he was selfish with the things that mattered to him. He had always been that way even in his youth. Taking far more than he would give to those around him, all except her. She had been worth the effort even if at times she made it all seem impossible. He had fallen in love at the tender age of thirteen and have never looked back. Throughout their relationship, Genevieve had pushed him to be who he saw himself as. She had made him feel comfortable in his skin and helped him to learn that even the darkest parts of him were worthy of love. Her love, which he now knew to be the purest things he had ever possessed. "Now that you are complete does like feel any different?" He teased her as he took her in, nightgown and all. "Why wouldn't I pay attention? I'm busy, not blind to my wife changing body." He smiled softly, sliding a hand around her waist as she moved to kiss his cheek. He wanted to kiss her, to wrap his arm around her and keep her close. He wanted to but he didn't and he wasn't sure why just yet.

"I did stop by but I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful." He lifted his hand to brush her hair back from her face, "I stayed for a bit with you." He took a breath that was followed by a nod, "I was doing paperwork and by the time I was done it made no sense to sleep at all." he reasoned, "You can never be too old. If you want to party then we will. Today is your day." he added lifting his brows, "Are you asking to unwrap me, Mrs. Reinhardt?" He asked with a hint of amusement in his tone, "Because I'll have to take credit to being the most attractive wrapped gift there is." He lifted his hand to trace the outline of the necklace she now wore, "But, yes and something after. Several times." He promised.

"We have a long day but let's start where it all began." He took her hand and led her towards the cage nestled off by itself nearest the window. He had moved the small birds just for the day and Taylor knew they were to be taken back before the end of the night. "After your birthday party, I went home and told my mother I had found the woman of my dreams. I didn't understand the gravity of it when she gave me these love birds then but I do now. She told me that separating them could mean they would die of a broken heart." He reached out to lift her pendant as he looked up into her eyes, "That's how I feel about you, you know? That were I to lose you I would die of a broken heart. So, to remember how deeply I love you I had a set made that will last forever." His hand lifted to brush her hair back from her face as he leaned to kiss her gently, hesitant even.

Things had been tense between them but this moment he shared with her felt like those of their past. He could feel the nervous energy and it told him that even in his anger he only ever wanted her. He pulled away with a grin to pull her close to him, "You can dress when we get to our second location but for the first hold me tight." The ground vanished and just as quickly as it had gone it had returned and they were standing in what felt like a dark room. "I reached out to see if I can have five minutes where it all started and well..." He pulled the light to show her that they were in the closet from her birthday party where they had spent five minutes together. Five minutes that had sparked something in his young heart that had never died.

"How about it? For old time sake?" He grinned as his brows lifted, leaning in to kiss her.

“Hm,” she considered, taking a moment to consider his question, looking for physical clues that she might present to him to assert her previous statement. “Well no, I suppose I feel very much like the Genevieve I’ve always been, just with a bit of extra weight, I suppose,” she teased, not oblivious to the fact that there had been change and it hadn’t been limited to the life growing inside of her. She had matured, opened herself to the idea of being loved, and had gone through great pains to allow herself moments of vulnerability. And those moments of weakness often presented themselves in situations like these, when he wrapped an arm around her waist and told her that he had noticed her. And there was nothing more fascinating than to be noticed, especially by a man like her own. “I don’t know; these days, you’ve been paying attention to very little outside of your work,” she added pointedly, though her tone was not particularly harsh. It was soft, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Genevieve felt out of touch with her husband, distant in a way that she had not felt for years, and it concerned her. Or better yet, terrified her.

“You needn’t say you visited your own bedroom, I don’t care for it, even if you refuse to sleep in it,” she said, the expression on her face betraying the arrogance with which she spoke. The entire situation could have been settled through a conversation, but it was one that the young witch was still unwilling to have. Though he had seemingly put aside their differences to celebrate her birthday, she could feel the distance between them even more now than she had several days ago. His silence was new to her; it had never been in his nature to conceal his feelings about something in her presence. Then again, Genevieve had a terrible habit of bringing out the worst in others, sometimes for her entertainment but usually because she was so incredibly dense in matters of emotional response. In her eyes, there was much merit in being one’s own person, to say and do what was on one’s mind rather than to follow what others expected of you. But her desire for emotional independence only lead to the heartbreak of others, and for the longest time, that heartbreak had been experienced by the man that stood before her.

Nevertheless, it was not long before his comment, a little teasing brought a smile to her face and made her relax just slightly, “No parties,” she said almost immediately, “Just you,” she clarified, her gaze traveling from his eyes, along the bridge of his nose, and finally paused on his lips, oh how she longed to kiss him. “Then I supposed I’ll be unwrapping the best gift for last?” she offered with much playfulness of her own, a small laugh traveling along the hallways and grabbing her maid’s attention. Effie, not having heard such a happy laugh in quite some time, peaked out of the door for only a moment, at least until Genevieve glared in her direction, and she returned to her chores. But she knew as well as the staff and anyone else that had witnessed their togetherness that they were good together, almost too perfect, and without each other didn’t quite fit into the rest of the universe around them.

Genevieve allowed herself to be ushered into the room, her fingers interlocking with his as a way to keep him closer, to keep him invested in talking to her. His silence had threatened to send her into despair and now that they were talking, finally communicating, it felt as if she couldn’t get enough of his voice. She hung on to every syllable, remember how much she loved his accent and how funnily he pronounced certain words. “That’s somehow—terribly embarrassing, Wolfie,” she teased. After their first kiss at her birthday party, she had returned home a changed girl, the record of those minutes in the closet the beginning of many tales, the subject of the ones dealing with the matters of her heart had always been him. “It’s like the pair,” she reminded him, “the pair of birds in Cadiz,” she added. Genevieve couldn’t remember whether they had been the same type of birds or different, but she had remembered thinking the same thing, how she could not imagine a life in which Wolfgang was not a part of.

 Her heart sped up when he kissed her, though it wasn’t filled with the passion he usually held for her, it didn’t feel forced, but rather, slow, tender, and filled with the hesitation one might find in a boy kissing the girl of his dreams for the first time. Though she was about to protest at his suggestion that they leave without her having changed her clothing, she fell silent. Genevieve made a mental note to enjoy this, him, and all of the time between where she had longed to be close to him in this way. She closed her eyes, opening them only when he started to speak again, her eyes opening though she had trouble adjusting to the space. “My cousin rigged the game,” she explained, “though I can’t say I never thought about it… fourteen-year-old girls are so…silly aren’t they?” she tittered, observing him for a moment before she cupped his cheek and leaned in to gently kiss him, her hands moving to grip his shirt for balance as he leaned forwards. And at that moment, things felt familiar again.

There was a distance, a sense of ever-growing space, though self-imposed it still hung heavy on both his heart and mind. If he closed his eyes at just the right time, he could see the photo that had nearly ruined his marriage. He could hear her fumbling over her explanation. But mostly he remembered how often he had to watch Nicholas enjoy moments – his moments – with the world watching to bear judgements. Wolfgang knew that much like himself, Genevieve, could feel that gap which said things still needed mending. He knew she felt the coolness of their room at night as he slept in his office. Wolfie had allowed his anger to move him to a decision - one in which his wife was punished for the actions of someone else. The boy knew it was selfish of him to condemn her for something out of her control, but he felt just. His wife had after all gone to this man’s home in the early hours of the morning and allowed him to pull her in for the kiss that haunted the heir. However, upset he may have been meant nothing on a day in which she was to be celebrated. He could block out the voices that said she was set to leave him for what looked better to the world. He could shut down the anxiety that said his son, his legacy, was that of another man. For her, he could.

“Extra weight?” he asked as if he had not noticed that her body was constantly changing. But he had, from the moment the words I’m pregnant were spoken he had taken notice. He informed the kitchen to make sure her food was cooked well done. He spoke to the tailors and had all of her favorite things altered to fit her growing form. He went as far as to soundproof the bird room so that the songs of his pets did not disturb her from sleep. He may have placed much distance between them, but Wolfgang had always been present. He pretended as to not spend his time planning things for their future, but he had. He had taken to making a nursery, crafting everything his son would have by hand. The work helped ease his mind of the many worries that threatened to slip into his thoughts. Wolfie had made sure that no staff had seen the room, all but Taylor, because he was not one for gossip. It was a surprise he wanted to gift her at the end of their night, a peace offering of sorts for his less than attentive behavior. His gaze washed over her slowly, “Trust me, it may seem as if I’m not paying attention, but I see it all. I take each day and it’s events into account.” Came a soft reply as his gaze rose to capture hers, “Even if I happen to be stubborn about something. I’m always going to be here. “

“But you are right. I should be giving you my undivided attention. Everything outside of this house should come second.” He had wondered often if he had been too harsh. She had told him that it meant nothing, that she was just as surprised - as he was - to have been kissed. Even if he believed her his ego couldn’t simply accept her explanation. He wanted to be more compassionate and understanding but she knew him otherwise. She knew his jealousy and his rage. It wasn’t safe to assume that he had not shown her his better sides. He had, quite often in fact. But even still she knew what he had always put before her and it made him wonder if he was simply playing into what she expected of him rather than doing what he wanted. The Irishman couldn’t say that he wanted to have such space and coldness between them. It hurt terribly to keep himself away from her when all he wanted was to be as close as he was now.

“Visited wasn’t the right word. I was sitting next to you on the bed this morning.” He nodded, feeling these words sounded far better and gave her something to picture. “You looked so peaceful; I didn't want to wake you.” He could have said other things, better things but he felt his honesty was better repeated. Well, the surface of how he felt at the very least. He couldn’t tell her that he paced the nights where he did not lay next to her, how he lay uneasy at night hoping that sleep would take him. He could never confess that he often walked by their bedroom door to steal glances at her. It made him feel as if time had somehow reversed and he was once again vying for her attention. How often he felt the failure to the lucky few to be flaunted around for the press. His jealousy was a deep-rooted thing that seemed to never really go away no matter how often he tried to make it to.

“Very well, no parties.” His lips twitched before he smiled as he watched her gaze, licking his lips slightly “Yes, I suppose you will. Sure you can handle it?” He asked, grinning as she laughed. It wasn’t until he heard the sound that he realized he’d missed. The relaxed way her laugh filled the halls. It was contagious and he found himself chuckling. “I often did the most embarrassing things when it came to you back then.” He had let his heart lead his decisions back then but now, now his mind was a part of the equation as well. He reminded himself that she had feelings that he needed to nurture and protect. “You remembered.” He looked at her, “It’s the same pair.” he looked back at the birds, “From that night in Cadiz.” He didn’t think of the next morning because that night had been perfect. Wolfgang often thought he understood why she had run all those years ago, granted it wasn’t that many years. He wondered if it had been too real, too intense or if she had simply realized with him it wasn’t time.

 His jaw set as he felt her grip, as the heat radiated from her body. His hands moved to slide around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss. A hand rose to bury his fingers in her hair as he cupped her face. For a moment he had forgotten about all their past troubles, about the distance he had put there and lost himself in the moment. He wanted to be this close to her for months. To feel her beg for something more with just a touch. It was intoxicating as it had always been, so much so, he had nearly forgotten he had planned a whole day just for her. Were this any other time it was certain the former Slytherin would have had his way with her. Reluctantly he pulled away from her, only the short distance they would need to breathe. “I love you.” He whispered to her between breaths, “I’m sorry.” Came just after as his grip on her tightened. “I wish that I didn’t get jealous as I do. I wish I could express my feelings rather than do the things that I choose to.”

The man pulled back a bit more so that he could look down into her face, the gentle glow of the lightbulb above their heads engulfing her. He smiled as he could see her freckles, leaning to kiss across the apple of her cheek. “You are so beautiful.” He said as he leaned back once more. “I want nothing more than to keep kissing you but then the day would not go as planned.” He lifted a hand to rest his index finger under her chin, “But there will be plenty of time for kissing throughout the day.” He promised.

Once more he brushed the hair back from her face, letting the back of his fingers brush along her skin, “I hated being away from you.” He said finally, “It was torture, but I did this to myself with my stubborn ways.” He just couldn’t look past it, not then he couldn’t, but now he couldn’t remember exactly why he had allowed there to be distance. He couldn’t fathom how he could think she would pick some other man over him. A man who would never fulfill her in the way Wolfgang tended to. He cherished her body because to him it was perfection. But it was how he nurtured her soul and challenged her mind that he felt he was irreplaceable. He loved her without hesitation nor judgement. He had been filled with a rage that had made him spiteful, but he realized now it was because he had something worth fighting for. Someone.

“You have to understand that…I cannot bear the thought of you ever wanting someone else.” His brows knitted as he stared into her eyes, “I would kill a thousand times if it meant never losing you.” His expression was serious, it held a certain intensity that he had often hidden away. “It is no excuse but I allowed my jealousy to lead me. I cannot say I thought of anything other than you. I often paced to keep from walking to the bedroom.” His finger traced along her jaw “But now that I am so close to you, I am actually nostalgic of our next stop.” He chuckled remembering those moments in the elevator just before that hotel room changed his life.

“Effie has gathered something suitable for you to wear. She was quite adamant that she pick out your clothing. She’s an oddly forceful woman.” He chuckled, pulling her closer to him as once more the floor vanished beneath and moments later, they stood in a familiar hotel room. His graze drifted around them before he stepped back to allow her to take in the space. His weight rocked on the tip of his shoes before he walked along the back of the couch. “I still remember how nervous I was. Being alone with you.” He looked over at her, a smile lifting his lips. “My heart beat a million miles a minute. I couldn’t breathe or think. And then I was kissing you and close to you. I pretended but I always think you knew.” He leaned against the couch as his arms crossed.

“That was the day for me that sealed it all. The kiss, it had opened my eyes to what I felt but this room.” He looked around the room once more, “It changed my life.”

The child within her, the one that still believed in salvation and happily ever after, wanted to be convinced by his words, allow them to sink in and take her away to one of the many instances when they had been in synch with each other, when time seemingly stopped in their favor. On rare occasion, Genevieve was capable of taking his words at face value, preventing herself from weaving a tall tale of the ongoing deception she often believed herself on the receiving end of. But things did not feel right, and the discomfort in their recent distance bled into every thought of hers, into every observation of his movements, until all she could think about was the fact that things would never return to the way they almost were.

She had spent seven years hoping to gain his favor and, in an instant, had lost all of it. Wolfgang no longer felt love for her but rather, a sense of obligation to the family they had unwittingly created. This feeling of instability frightened her, and though he confessed to agreeing with the need to spend more time appreciating her or that he noticed, Genevieve wondered if those were more beautifully formed lies, she was certain he was capable of, things to placate her and woo her further into believing that nothing was wrong, that life had gone on and he was no longer consumed by her betrayal.

I’m always going to be here, he had said but Genevieve had heard that before, countless of times from a plethora of faces, all people she had lost to death, lost to Azkaban, or lost complete trust in. How long would it be before Wolfgang, too, found her much too unbearable to continue to love? If such a small gesture, a kiss that she had not wanted, had driven such a wedge between them then what other small, insignificant provocation would seal the death of their romance? These thoughts gave rise to that disturbing sense of insecurity she experienced in his presence that time and time again had led her to the same conclusion: there was nothing more painful in the world that being in love. And yet, this was the sort of torture she willingly submitted herself to on a daily basis.

It had taken them seven years’ worth of disagreements, jealousy, romance, and bitter words to finally align under the most ideal of circumstances. It had been that night in her bedroom when he had asked her to leave Nicholas that Genevieve had come to a tardy epiphany regarding their relationship-- that if she were ever to die of a broken heart then it ought to be at the hands of the man that had held fast to her heart for as long as she could bear to remember. Yet, here they stood again, broken, possibly beyond repair. The young witch did not deserve his forgiveness no matter how much she desired it, neither did she deserve his apology. If anything, she deserved to live out the rest of her married life in misery and distrust as nature most likely intended her to. And yet, here he was.

The girl felt safest in his arms, with her lips pressed against his, as they took away the need to express her thoughts. Could he sense the vulnerability that raced through her mind as she held on to him tightly, much too afraid to let go? “I would not be so forgiving,” she expressed shortly after he spoke, “And for what it is worth, I suppose it bears saying that it meant nothing, it was simply a lapse of judgement on his part, an inability to anticipate his movement on mine,” she continued, “there was a reason I never took him home,” she explained. It was a vague statement but something that he would understand well. Nicholas could barely hold a candle to her feelings for Wolfgang and it was when that affection seeped into other aspects of her life that she came to understand the power of sentiment; nothing else could satisfy her as much as his company, and it was then that she realized he was winning, he was always winning.

But Wolfgang often spoke as if he were on the verge of losing her, keeping her enchanted with every set of words he strung together, momentarily relieving her from that heavy burden of self-doubt that reminded her there was always the possibility of loss; Genevieve was no stranger to being torn apart from the things that she loved the most, why would her husband be any different? “I’ve never wanted anyone else,” she confessed, hesitation in her voice as she expressed her innermost thoughts, it felt easier to do in such a small space, shrouded in darkness, memories, and sentiment. “Not like I want you, Wolfie,” she clarified because there had been others, fleeting interests, mistakes, a plethora of one-night romances for the sake of taking her mind off of everything else the consumed her. Because she had been too afraid to be truest to the person who needed it the most, herself.

“I simply assumed that maybe you had,” she took a deep breath, it was no easy topic of discussion, those thoughts of his possibly losing interest in her, “maybe found someone else, someone better suited to your temperament,” she explained. They had often lost each other in incompatible frequencies, one had walked too fast when the other had walked too slow, the time had never been quite right, their thoughts in two different places always. It was easier to assume that he had abandoned his feelings for her than to think that he was slighted because Genevieve felt it easiest to be hurt rather than to know she had caused pain to the man she adored.

She smiled a little, opening herself up to the prospect that maybe this reconciliation was not just obligation but that there was more to it than ulterior motive. It did not take long for her to assume the next location, opening her eyes to the familiar hotel room, the thought of what had transpired there bringing a little color to her cheeks, the symbol of her childish nature, the innocence that he had possessed. “You had me fooled,” she said, taking several steps forward to look at it. The bedding was the same, those dreadful curtains had not changed, the only thing that had not stood the test of time had been the two of them, changed by the many occurrences in their lives since then. “I suppose I never heard of it but it was easy for me to assume considering the girls you surrounded yourself with,” she explained. These were not the sort of thoughts that she was often so comfortable expressing, but she had resolved to allow herself to be more vulnerable here, in this space, even if that feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that this was a terribly planned idea that would eventually seal her demise in heartbreak.

“And I was so nervous trying to impress you, just thinking about it makes me want to forget it altogether, “she explained. It had been terribly embarrassing for her to show that side of herself, not the lack of clothing, in retrospect that had not mattered as much as the vulnerability she had demonstrated. It was so unlike the witch to show parts of herself where she was not completely in the know, not absolutely in control. Wolfgang was the only person that had ever made her feel the desire to show those parts of her too, the ones that she so actively hid from the world. Genevieve made her way over the poorly designed closet, wrinkling her nose as she pulled from it the pool of tulle and lace, she had chosen for the wedding. At the time she thought herself a vision, now that she looked back at the material, she realized how much she had changed. She had her father then, but several months after that she had lost him, and things had never been the same, such things reflected in all aspects of her life. The thought made her uncomfortable. 

“It’s the dress,” she said, her tone echoing some bitter sweetness. “I’d never,” she started but sighed a little, remembering whom she was with and how little she needed to pretend around him no matter how much she longed to invert into herself every time he looked in her direction. “You still give me the same sort of butterflies, when you look at me like you love me, it’s…” she paused, frowning a little as she looked for the right words, “oddly enchanting and somehow intimidating at the same time,” Genevieve attempted to explain. But words avoided her when she was trying to be more of herself, she had forgotten what she was little under all the glamour and penchant for coarseness.

“Give me a moment,” she said, looking over her shoulder as she thought to undress in front of him before deciding against it as she took the dress and moved closer to the bathroom, it wasn’t that far away anyway, they could still converse through the closed door. She did not want him to see her like this, so different than the person she had been when he still wanted her. And those feelings started to consume her one again. “You did not have to go out of the way to do all of this,” she said. It was uncharacteristic from the girl who had always thought she deserved everything. “I expected not to see you again, not so soon,” she added, frowning a little as she looked at herself in the mirror before turning away to put on the dress.