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The scent of jasmine candles and the sound of soft R&B pulled Jasmine gently from sleep. Something was shifting in the room, the rustle of fabric, the subtle creak of hardwood. She blinked herself awake, hand resting over her growing belly as she turned toward the door.
Aubrey stood there, barefoot and grinning, dimples and all. He had that glint in his eye, the one that meant he was up to something. "You know what day it is?" he asked, voice warm and low like the music drifting through the house.
She blinked at him. "Thursday?"
His grin widened, eyes squinting slightly as he stepped closer. "Nah, baby. It's Wednesday." He leaned against the doorframe. "And more importantly... it's our anniversary."
Her face fell instantly. "Oh my God." Her hand flew to her mouth. "I-I forgot. Aubrey, I'm so-"
"Stop." He was already at her side, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "You've been carrying our daughter for almost six months." He kissed her temple. "The last thing I need from you is guilt."
She let out a shaky breath, eyes already glassy. "Still, I feel terrible—"
"Well, don't. You get a pass. Actually... you get a lifetime pass. But for now, come downstairs."
He stood and held out his hand. Jasmine sat up slowly, her body heavy with the exhaustion of pregnancy. She slipped on a robe, grabbed her toothbrush, and brushed her teeth in slow circles while Aubrey waited near the doorway. His gaze never left her.
When they were ready, he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other hovered behind her for support. "Careful," he murmured as they made their way toward the staircase.
She was mid-step down when she froze.
The entire first floor was blooming.
Hundreds. No, thousands of flowers in soft creams, blush pinks, and rich purples filled every surface. Bouquets cascaded from the railing, lined the hallway, and covered the living room furniture. But what stopped her in her tracks were the notes.
Dozens of handwritten notes were tucked into each bouquet. Folded neatly. Some long, some short. Each one in his handwriting.
Her fingers trembled as she stepped off the last stair, a quiet sob building in her chest. Jasmine stepped forward, reaching for the first note.
"You make everything I ever prayed for feel small."
She gasped softly and reached for the next.
"The way you touch your stomach when you think I'm not looking."
Another.
"How you still worry about my feelings when you can barely keep food down."
