December 17th, 2019
It's been a year and six months—a year and six months since you asked me to be yours. Every kiss, every hug, even every fight has been worth it because, in the end, it's always us. I knew I had to do something for you, my Dream. You were out of the house today; what a better way to surprise you than to cook and clean for you. As the lasagna baked, I cleaned the place just for you. You've been busy with work; I just wanted to give you a lovely anniversary. As the night came, I told you to come home. "Soon." My heart sunk; maybe I was in my head.
10 pm
The lasagna is cold; the bread is hard; the ice in the drinks has melted. The candle is burning out, my Dream, where are you? Our song just played, you haven't come home. I told you to come home again. "Soon, maybe not." My heart hurts. How could you do this?
11 pm
11 pm; it's been an hour since you last texted me. This surprise took me all day, and I waited for you to come home. You never did. I want you to see what you missed. I left the food on the set table, putting the lid on the candle. I dimmed the dining room lights and had our song playing on repeat lowly. I don't know if I am more sad or angry at you right now. I can't look at this table anymore, though. Goodnight, my Dream.
12 am
You came home. I pretended to be asleep when you went into the room. You laid down next to me. "I know you are sleeping; I cleaned up down there. I am sorry for missing our anniversary; I will make it up to you, my love. I love you. Thank you for everything."
