Wendy Oneshot

Her Smile

@aegyotrashcan

The atmosphere was less than comfortable. What had once been quite but relaxed silences between lovers, with quick kisses and loving glances exchanged, was now tense and awkward. Wendy didn’t feel as comfortable around you as she used to. Right now, she wondered if she could even trust you anymore, never mind sit in a nice atmosphere with you.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks, voice sounding magnified by the thick silence. To her own ears, it sounded like she was shouting, words echoing across the void.

“Yeah, sure.”

A short pause.

“What’s her name?”

That was the strangest question you had ever been asked. The evening had been spent, sitting on the couch with your girlfriend, watching some low-budget crime movie on television. Two cups of hot chocolate had been consumed and the chocolate bar you bought this morning was calling your name. And now Wendy asks you this strange question, completely out of context. Yet her eyes looked right at you, almost through you and into your soul, as if you knew what she was talking about.

“Who’s name?” You glanced at the t.v. “The girl that got murdered? I think her name’s Emilia or something.”

“No, you know what I mean.” Those big, expressive eyes that you had fallen for filled with tears, and looked at you with so much hurt and sorrow that you wanted to comfort her but for what? What was she so upset about? “I’m not stupid,” she continued. “Who’s the girl you’ve been seeing behind my back?”

“What?” The colour drained from your face. There had been a girl you were sneaking off to see, without telling her. But not in the way she seemed to be understanding it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Wendy spat. She could read you well, maybe too well. “It’s all over your face!”

Now you had two options. Try and lie your way out of this, to keep the secret. A quick glance at the calendar hanging by the clock told you there was only two more days to go, just two more days of secretly meeting up with Mrs. Cooke. But was the surprise worth Wendy’s tears?

As one drop trickled down her cheek, that chubby, cute cheek you loved pressing kisses to; you knew it wasn’t.

“Seungwan,” you began. “I have been meeting someone but not - ” you grabbed her wrist as she tried to get up, to storm away. “Not for the reason you think.” She paused, watery eyes expectant. “I’ve been going to baking classes, to learn how to make a cake. For your birthday.”

Wendy’s shoulders sagged, her entire body deflating in relief. “Oh, oh my gosh.” She fell back onto the couch. “I thought,” she took a ragged breath, “I though you had gotten bored of me. I know I’ve been busy lately with promotions but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you and you were acting so differently and I just thought …”

You pulled her into your arms, ignoring the tears that stained your shirt. “I would never cheat on you, Olaf. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s why I wanted to make you that cake. I wanted it to be the best looking, tastiest cake you’ve ever had.”

“But, don’t take this the wrong way, you’re useless in the kitchen,” Wendy said, a laugh escaping her lips.

“I know! That’s why I keep sneaking off; to practice! But I still suck! It’s gotten to the point where I’m thinking of stealing one of Mrs. Cooke’s cakes and pretending I made it.”

“I probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway if you did that. You seriously can’t cook.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“No, trust me, you are.”

And now, that beautiful woman with the voice of an angel was smiling. Her tears were gone, like dark clouds parting for her sunshine smile to brighten your day. Maybe the surprise cake was no longer a surprise but revealing the secret was worth it.

It was worth it to see her smile.