He'd gone beyond his player ways for her.
She'd grown beyond her traumatic past for him.
Together, their love was beyond.
Until one fatal accident.
__________
When she loses the love of her life in a car crash, Althea has nothing left in California...
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*ASHER'S POV*
October 22, 2023.
"Make a wish!"
For the first time in three years, I didn't roll my eyes at my mom's cheerful tone, nor did I ask to turn back time while blowing the one candle.
I wished this day would never end.
My muscles throbbing with fatigue wouldn't have agreed, but they were silenced by the claps around and a new burst of energy pumping through my veins when I reopened my eyes to my favorite smile, right next to me.
"Happy birthday. I didn't gift-wrap it because I thought I'd give you a break on the physio." Althea put a green gift bag on my knees as I turned to her, ignoring the cake in front of me—No offense to Kylie. Raspberry pistachio was my favorite, but nothing could make my mouth water more than those peachy lips rolling together as Althea followed my movements attentively.
"You didn't have to... The gift, I mean."
Though I also appreciated the ribbon loosely linking the bag handles so I didn't have to do more than tug on lightly with one hand.
"I wanted to." She shrugged, a cryptic twinkle in her dark eyes that peered up at me, exactly like on our first date, as I uncovered a piece of peach-colored fabric, this time way larger than a wristband.
"It's a tradition, and since you have an office job now, I thought you needed a special suit jacket."
"You m-made it?"
"Yeah, well, the kids drew all the designs." She pointed to the silver lines of marker as if they were the most important, and yes, the heart, the robot, the frog, and each little drawing were fucking important. As much as the smooth seams, the striking contrast of colors, and the magnets hidden under the buttons making it easier to close with one hand. "I did the sewing, and I'm a little rusty, so please be lenient."
"Rusty? Not even Ar'ani can do that!"
My mom repeated all the time that the best gifts had no price tag, and I'd used to believe it was a bullshit excuse to scrimp until seven years ago, when I'd unwrapped a piece of terry cloth the hot new girl had spent the night to make for me, and my breath had got knocked off my chest, replaced by unfamiliar flutters.
What was the most unbelievable though: that she'd spent so much time for this gift when she'd barely met me or that she'd done it again now that she knew almost every dark secret of mine?
