[REBECCA]
One week had passed, and the anticipation had built up to this moment.
A resounding knock echoed through the door as Lynda’s impatience got the better of her. “Are you done?” she called out.
Startled, I swiftly wrapped a towel around myself, my heart racing. The door creaked open to reveal Lynda’s expectant face. “Yes, I’m done,” I managed to reply.
“Did you manage to shave?” Camilla’s voice chimed in from behind Lynda.
“Yes,” I answered, my cheeks flushing slightly.
“Everywhere?” Lynda’s question caught me off guard.
I shot her an annoyed look. “Yes. But why does it matter? I’m just heading to the creek.”
Ignoring my question, Lynda thrust a dress into my hands. “Here. Get changed.”
Baffled, I examined the dress. It wasn’t the one I had chosen earlier. I craned my neck, hoping to spot my preferred purple dress, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“We thought this one would suit you better,” Camilla offered. “Hurry, Artemy is waiting.”
“But-” I began to protest, but a stern glare from Lynda silenced me instantly.
With a resigned sigh, I retreated to the bathroom to put on the dress. The fabric cascaded gracefully, a white expanse reaching beyond my ankles. Backless and sleeveless, yet elegantly simple, it accentuated my baby bump perfectly.
As I studied my reflection, a genuine smile crept onto my lips. The dress made me feel truly beautiful. Adjusting the dress’s straps, I hastily combed my hair, letting its waves fall down my back. Satisfied with my appearance, I emerged from the bathroom.
Lynda and Camilla descended upon me, their hands armed with brushes and cosmetics. After a brief makeup session that felt longer than it was, they finally released me.
“Why?” I inquired, inspecting my glossy pink lips and mascara-coated lashes. There was even a touch of light eyeshadow.
“We simply wanted to pamper you,” Camilla responded. I shook my head, skepticism tugging at my thoughts.
But then again, they were known for their whimsical actions. I had stopped trying to predict their motives long ago, learning to embrace the unexpected.
Lynda delicately placed a single peony above my ear, ensuring it was secure in my hair without causing discomfort. “There. You look absolutely breathtaking, darling. You’re all set now,” Lynda proclaimed. I offered her a grateful smile.
“Artemy doesn’t appreciate waiting,” I remarked, standing up. Camilla handed me a pair of black sandals, which I slipped on swiftly.
Lynda mumbled something under her breath, the words escaping my ears, yet it hardly mattered. My focus was entirely on reuniting with Artemy.
I hadn’t seen him since morning, and a twinge of disappointment settled in that he hadn’t even stirred me awake before his departure. He had been absent during breakfast as well.
“Alright. Off you go, lovely!” Camilla cheered. I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully.
“Thank you,” I offered sincerely.
Before I exited the room, I pivoted to face them once more. “Truly, thank you.”
Their smiles widened. “You’ll appreciate it more later. Now, go on!” Camilla chuckled.
With a final shake of my head, I left the room. Lynda stayed by my side, assisting me as I descended the stairs.
Artemy preferred that I never descended the stairs alone, and so Lynda accompanied me. Upon reaching the ground floor, Lynda relinquished her hold on me and winked mischievously before darting back upstairs. She was oddly animated today.
Stepping outside through the grand doors, I spotted Brayden waiting by the entrance. However, he wasn’t alone. Avim and Leon stood alongside him.
“We’re here to accompany you to the creek,” Leon explained.
My lips formed an “O” of understanding, and I nodded appreciatively. Offering a kind smile, I addressed them, “Alright then. Thank you.”
Brayden positioned himself to my left, while Avim positioned himself to my right. As I began to step forward, they remained rooted in place, creating a sense of puzzlement within me. Glancing back, my confusion must have been evident.
Breaking the stillness, Brayden emitted a sigh, retracing his steps to align with my side, with Avim following suit. This pause in the flow of movement led to a brief moment of anticipation.
Unexpectedly, the two of them simultaneously extended their elbows towards me, an action that left me gaping in astonishment. The intention behind this gesture was eluding me.
Time hung suspended as they upheld their offering, and I stood immobilized, a statue of uncertainty. A manufactured cough from Avim, a strategic tactic to dissolve my entrancement, jolted me back to awareness.
Gradually piecing together the puzzling situation, I inquired, my words measured, “Are you implying that you want me… to take your arms?”
Brayden’s reply was simple, almost matter-of-fact, as he affirmed, “Yes.”
The realization prompted a barely audible, “Oh,” to escape my lips, followed by a self-conscious nibble on my lower lip, a subconscious manifestation of my thoughts. With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, I grasped their proffered elbows. The sensation was unusual, yet there was a surprising comfort in this unconventional connection.
Taking the lead, Leon advanced, guiding our trio. Our pace was unhurried, a deliberate precaution to prevent any unforeseen stumbling. A silence enveloped us, not one of unease but rather an ease born from familiarity.
The anticipation of reuniting with Artemy set a pulsating rhythm within me, like a secret song playing in my heart.
Upon entering the clearing, my steps wavered involuntarily. Artemy was there, his back turned to me, one foot resting on a rock as he leaned with casual grace.
My instinctive movement towards him was stymied by Brayden and Avim, who gently held me back. I cast them an impatient gaze, a silent plea for understanding.
Brayden took the initiative, leaning in to grace my forehead with a kiss. The contact left me momentarily motionless, my heart executing a ballet of fluttering sensations.
His departing whisper lingered, “You both deserve each other.”
Avim swiftly assumed his place, his lips also gracing my forehead with a gentle kiss. His voice, though a feigned cough earlier, now held sincere tenderness, “Be happy.”
With seamless transition, Leon closed the distance. His kiss, placed delicately upon my forehead, carried a wish and a blessing, “Make him a happy man.”
Their footsteps began to retreat, leaving me in a state of stunned contemplation. Blinking repeatedly, I endeavored to anchor my thoughts in the wake of the unexpected sequence.
My gaze shifted back to Artemy, who was now facing me, a soft smile adorning his features. In his hands, he held an artful bouquet of white peonies, a symbol of purity and affection.
A fond smile illuminated my face, my lips instinctively curving upwards. Gradually, I moved towards him, an invisible gravitational pull guiding me. Artemy extended his hand, a silent invitation that I promptly accepted.
His touch, warm and gentle, enveloped my hand, the connection radiating comfort. Drawing me nearer, he enfolded me in his embrace, a sanctuary of warmth and familiarity.
“Angel,” his voice, a whisper akin to a caress, brushed over me before his lips found mine.
His initial kiss bore a hesitance, a tentative exploration, before it transformed into an ardor that spoke of possession. It was a facet of him I cherished the intensity he invested in every gesture.
Our parting left us both breathless, a testament to the intensity of our connection. The desire for more was evident, a shared craving. His hand, as if guided by its own volition, found the curve of my neck, his touch feather-light against my skin, evoking a cascade of shivers.
In his touch, I found solace. His caress, delicate and deliberate, wove a tapestry of emotions within me warmth, tenderness, and the thrill of vulnerability.
“Rebecca,” his voice, transformed into a rasp, resonated with a heightened emotion.
A fervent response escaped me, my voice a mere whisper, “Artemy.” Closer, I moved, inching until the distance between us was minimal.
“You radiate beauty, like a true Angel,” he mused softly, his gaze an affectionate embrace.
In his eyes, I glimpsed the sentiment that words couldn’t fully convey. Love and admiration converged, and I absorbed his words as though they were delicate petals, each carrying the weight of his feelings.
The ivory expanse of my attire seemed to amplify the sentiments between us, serving as a canvas to paint our emotions upon.
My cheeks flushed with warmth as his kind words enveloped me, causing me to cast my gaze modestly upon his chest. Artemy’s tender demeanor persisted, his finger gently lifting my chin, tilting my head to meet his gaze. “And this,” he murmured softly, his touch beneath my chin coaxing my head to tilt upward, “I find it so endearing that you are still shy around me.”
A deeper blush painted my cheeks as his words found their mark, the smile on my lips revealing my burgeoning delight. A profound tranquility settled over me, a sense of being cherished and loved, all thanks to Artemy.
Stepping back slightly, he revealed a bouquet of flowers with a graceful gesture. “These are for you,” he offered, his voice gentle.
Accepting the bouquet with a soft-spoken thank you, I held the flowers close to my chest, my heart brimming with affection. “I love these flowers. They’re my favorite.”
Artemy’s response carried a touch of arrogance, his gaze locking with mine knowingly. He had a knack for understanding my preferences.
Surveying the surroundings by the creek, I spotted an arrangement of pillows, a basket, and a generous blanket beneath a tree. My eyes returned to meet Artemy’s, and I pointed inquisitively toward the tree. “What’s all this?”
He shrugged, a subtle hint of discomfort crossing his expression, soon giving way to a deep breath and a clearing of his throat. Swearing under his breath, he diverted his eyes momentarily, as if grappling with his thoughts. With renewed determination, he met my gaze again, overcoming the momentary lapse.
Anticipation hung in the air as I waited for his words, only for them to falter as he began to speak. A frustrated exhale escaped him, his fingers running through his hair agitatedly.
“I had this planned. I even practiced,” he growled with a mixture of irritation and vulnerability.
“Okay?” I responded, my curiosity piqued.
Clutching the bouquet, I drew it closer, signaling my readiness for his explanation.
“Right,” he said, clearing his throat once more. “You deserve everything, you know that, right? Even a romantic proposal. I want to do this right.”
Recognition dawned upon me, an ‘aha’ moment that left me momentarily speechless. Was Artemy really about to propose?
My gaping expression must have been a clear giveaway. He confirmed it with a nod.
“Flowers…” he began, motioning to the bouquet. His gaze held mine, and I nodded slowly, prompting him to continue.
“It’s you,” he stated earnestly, his finger indicating the flowers. “I mean, flowers represent beauty. That’s you-the most beautiful.”
His sentiment struck a chord within me, prompting my genuine gratitude. “Thank you. That’s incredibly thoughtful and sweet.”
“The pink peonies are meant to be romantic,” he elaborated, drawing my attention to the light pink blooms nestled within the arrangement.
My eyes drifted to the flowers, only to find a pair of light pink peonies amid the white petals. It was a touching detail.
“But I’m giving you the white ones because that’s the first flower I ever gave you. It was the start of us,” Artemy’s voice wavered as he concluded the thought, his emotions momentarily overwhelming him.
“Why am I suddenly talking so much about flowers?” he interjected with a hint of self-mockery.
Smiling warmly, I assured him, “I find it sweet-the significance behind the flowers. I love it.” He had clearly poured thought into every detail, even if his words were tinged with humor.
In that moment, he appeared both lost and bashful, a blend of confusion and unwavering determination.
“Okay,” he breathed, taking another deep inhalation. Frustration surged, prompting him to adjust his tie with a swift gesture.