Chapter 27:Adrain
1711 Words
One year.Three hundred and sixty-five days.
If someone had asked me a year ago what the greatest achievement of my life would be, I would have answered without hesitation.
My companies.
My success.
Everything I had built.
Now…
The answer was asleep beside me, stealing my blanket without the slightest hint of guilt.
I smiled to myself.
He always denied it.
He was also always guilty.
I reached over and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from Jude’s forehead.
His eyes fluttered open.
“…Morning.”
“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”
The sleepiest smile spread across his face.
“Happy anniversary.”
One year.
And somehow…
I loved him even more than I had on our wedding day.
⸻
A week earlier, I’d asked him the most important question.
“What kind of anniversary do you want?”
He hadn’t even needed a second to think.
“No ballroom.”
“No photographers.”
“No speeches.”
“No headlines.”
I laughed.
“That rules out most of my ideas.”
“I know.”
“So what do you want?”
He smiled in that quiet way that always softened something inside me.
“I want breakfast with you.”
“A walk.”
“Dinner.”
“And to come home with my husband.”
“That’s all.”
It sounded so simple.
And somehow…
It became the most difficult anniversary I’d ever planned.
Because how was I supposed to spoil someone who only wanted me?
⸻
By eight that morning, my phone was already buzzing.
I smiled before opening our conversation.
Adrian: Good morning, husband.
Almost instantly…
Jude: You are literally downstairs.
Adrian: That wasn’t the question.
Jude: Good morning, husband.
A second message followed.
I love you.
My chest warmed immediately.
Adrian: Already making this the best anniversary.
⸻
When Jude came downstairs, he stopped halfway.
“What…?”
The entrance hall had transformed overnight.
White roses.
Soft candles.
Fresh lilies.
Photographs from every month of our first year together lined the staircase.
Our honeymoon.
Late-night kitchen dancing.
Hospital selfies he’d sworn I wasn’t allowed to keep.
Sunday mornings.
Rainy afternoons.
Every ordinary little moment that had quietly become extraordinary.
He looked at me with tears already gathering.
“You did all this?”
“You wanted something intimate.”
“So…”
I gestured around us.
“I brought our year home.”
He crossed the room without another word and wrapped both arms around me.
“You remembered everything.”
“I remember everything that involves you.”
⸻
Breakfast barely lasted twenty minutes before the doorbell rang.
Jude frowned.
“What now?”
I smiled innocently.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“Liar.”
Outside sat a beautifully wrapped envelope.
He opened it carefully.
Inside…
A set of keys.
His eyebrows knitted together.
“Adrian…”
“Come outside.”
He looked at me suspiciously.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve got that face.”
“I don’t have a face.”
“You absolutely do.”
Hand in hand, we stepped into the driveway.
Jude froze.
Parked beneath a satin cover was a brand-new luxury grand tourer in the exact colour he’d once paused to admire while we were walking through Mayfair.
Months ago, he’d stopped for barely five seconds.
“I like that colour.”
Then he’d kept walking.
He’d forgotten.
I hadn’t.
His hand tightened around mine.
“You remembered.”
“You looked at it.”
“For five seconds.”
“Five unforgettable seconds.”
He laughed through happy tears.
“Adrian…”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
He shook his head.
“This is too much.”
“It isn’t.”
“It really is.”
“It really isn’t.”
⸻
Before he’d fully recovered…
The second surprise arrived.
A folder.
He opened it slowly.
His eyes widened.
“…A house?”
“Our house.”
I smiled.
“A little place overlooking the coast.”
“You said once that you’d love somewhere quiet where you could hear the sea after difficult hospital shifts.”
His lips parted.
“I said that almost a year ago.”
“I know.”
“You remembered that too?”
“I remember everything.”
He covered his face with both hands.
“This is ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“I don’t deserve all this.”
“You deserve more.”
He looked at me with such overwhelming affection that, for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
⸻
Then he disappeared upstairs.
Curious, I waited.
Ten minutes later he returned carrying several carefully wrapped boxes.
“My turn.”
“Oh?”
He folded his arms.
“No arguing.”
“I make no promises.”
Inside the first box rested an exquisite Italian mechanical watch.
Elegant.
Understated.
Exactly my style.
The second contained two hand-tailored Italian suits in deep charcoal and midnight navy.
The craftsmanship was extraordinary.
“You…”
I looked up.
“When did you have time for this?”
“I’ve been planning for months.”
“Months?”
“You think you’re the only one capable of keeping secrets?”
I laughed.
“I stand corrected.”
“There are also shoes.”
“Of course there are.”
“And cufflinks.”
“I should’ve known.”
“And…”
He handed me one final envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
No expensive gift compared to those words.
Page after page describing our first year together.
Every memory.
Every lesson.
Every reason he loved me.
By the time I’d finished reading…
I had to blink several times before I trusted myself to speak.
“You’ve managed to make a man who negotiates billion-dollar mergers speechless.”
He smiled.
“I’ll treasure that victory.”
⸻
Throughout the day, I found excuses to message him.
Even though we were spending most of it together.
When he stepped away to answer a call from the hospital…
Adrian: You look unfairly handsome today.
His reply arrived almost instantly.
Jude: I’m standing twenty feet away from you.
Adrian: Exactly.
Later…
When he disappeared briefly into the garden…
Adrian: Missing you already.
He looked up from across the lawn.
Caught me smiling over my phone.
Then rolled his eyes in the most affectionate way imaginable.
⸻
Dinner unfolded exactly as I’d imagined.
A private terrace.
A string quartet playing softly nearby.
Italian cuisine prepared by one of the city’s finest chefs.
Fresh pasta.
Perfectly cooked steaks.
Rich desserts shared between us because Jude insisted mine always tasted better than his.
“I think you’re biased.”
“I absolutely am.”
The evening flowed effortlessly.
Conversation.
Laughter.
Comfortable silences.
The sort of night that reminded me why loving him had become the easiest thing I’d ever done.
As dessert arrived, I raised my glass.
“To one year.”
Jude smiled.
“To choosing each other every day.”
We clinked our glasses together.
“And to many more,” I said.
His eyes softened.
“Always.”
⸻
Later that evening, we returned home.
The celebrations faded into something quieter.
We changed into comfortable clothes, curled up together in the bedroom, and simply enjoyed being close after such a full day. The room was peaceful, lit only by the warm glow of bedside lamps, and every lingering embrace seemed to say what words no longer needed to.
For a long while, neither of us spoke.
Then…
Jude rested his head against my shoulder.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
He hesitated.
“What do you think…”
He smiled shyly.
“…about us having a baby someday?”
The question settled gently between us.
My heartbeat stumbled.
A child.
I’d imagined the possibility before.
More than once.
Yet hearing him say it aloud made the future suddenly feel very real.
I pictured Jude holding a tiny hand.
Reading bedtime stories.
Laughing in a garden while a little voice called him Papa.
It should have filled me with uncomplicated joy.
Instead…
Something tighter settled beneath it.
Not because I didn’t think he’d be an extraordinary father.
He would.
Without question.
My fear wasn’t about parenthood.
It was quieter than that.
Selfish, even.
For a year, I’d been lucky enough to have so much of Jude’s world intertwined with mine. The thought of sharing his time, his attention, his endless affection with a child stirred an emotion I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t resentment toward a future child—it was the fear of how deeply change can unsettle even the happiest life.
I didn’t want to answer him carelessly.
Or from fear.
Or from instinct.
I wanted to answer him as the husband he deserved.
So I kissed the top of his head and smiled gently.
“Can I give you my answer tomorrow?”
He looked up.
“Tomorrow?”
“I’ve learned something this year.”
“What’s that?”
“That the important conversations deserve my whole heart.”
“And I want to think about this properly.”
“I don’t want to answer too quickly just because I’m surprised.”
He studied me for a moment.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
“No pressure.”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Relief washed through me.
“Thank you.”
He intertwined our fingers.
“I don’t need an answer tonight.”
“I just wanted to know what you were thinking.”
“I will tell you.”
“I promise.”
He smiled and leaned against me once more.
Outside, the night was still.
Inside, surrounded by the gifts, the laughter, the memories of a beautiful anniversary, and the quiet trust we’d fought so hard to rebuild, I realised something.
The greatest gift we’d given each other that day wasn’t the house.
Or the car.
Or the watches.
It was this.
The confidence to pause before answering.
The patience to listen.
The certainty that love didn’t require immediate perfection—only honesty.
And as I held Jude close, I silently hoped that whatever answer I gave him tomorrow…
It would honour the life we’d spent the last year building together.
- Writer
