“Excuse me! Coming through!” Aubrey exclaimed as she struggled to make her way through the crowd. The special tarts had just been released in their town, and almost every citizen had abandoned their houses and had gathered around ‘Kaspers’ Pastries and Decorations’ to try it out. However, she had made it a few hours late due to the usual traffic and her work.
It’s alright, she thought as she fought the smell of sweat and smoke from the crowd. Surely, there’ll be some left.
There were none.
The crowd slowly started to disperse around her when the manager appeared at the door and announced that they were out of ingredients, and it wouldn’t be possible to restock them for the day. Behind him, no empty chairs were left; everyone was having a good time, stuffing their faces with the special tarts. Just looking at them gave Aubrey the urge to smack someone.
She left the place, her heart sinking. She could clearly remember her husband mentioning that he really wanted to try out the special tarts at Kaspers’ but couldn’t because of his job. She should’ve come earlier. Plus, this shop had no website where she could order any tarts from.
Okay, then. She squared her shoulders, trying to forget about the tarts. Onto the next location.
***
Dorian was a bad cook.
Not entirely though. He could make mashed potatoes, noodles… and maybe an egg fry. Aubrey never let him use the kitchen because of all the accidents he’d cause. She mentioned that she really liked the clumsy side of his. He didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
This time, however, he wasn’t going to let a mistake dishearten him. He was going to make Aubrey’s favourite dish and present it to her. That was his mission.
As he sliced the onions, he kept thinking how Aubrey would be surprised to see him in the kitchen, as she didn’t know that he’d taken a day off for their first anniversary after their marriage and was wishing to spend this day with her. According to his ‘expert’ time analysis, he had enough hours to create the dish before she came back from work. Maybe he could-
Hot, red pain shot up his arm, making him yelp and drop the knife. Droplets of blood stained on the cutting board; he had almost sliced off his finger. Blowing on it and trying to blink back tears, he ran around the house searching for a tissue and a band-aid, knocking over the garbage can and occasionally bumping his feet and waist against the furniture. Finally, he found the first-aid bow in their bedroom, hurriedly wiped off the blood and stuck a band-aid around his finger. He sighed.
He already knew he wasn’t going to make it by the time Aubrey got home.
***
“No!” Aubrey yelled as the taxi drifted away, causing several passersby to look at her. She did have money to pay back the taxi driver, but that money was for the cake. The money she had gotten for the special tarts went to a nice watch and a cologne set which she had been guarding extra carefully ever since she got to the street.
Another problem was that her phone was dead, and she hadn’t brought her red bag by accident, which consisted of her credit card and her charger. This meant she had to walk to the bakery and pay them in cash.
The bakery that consisted of all Dorian’s favourite cakes was a 30-minute walk, excluding the ten-minute breaks she’d take to sit on one of the benches or the pavement, take off her heels and fan her feet now and then. By the time she had reached, the sun had already sunk in deep, and clouds began to gather up in the night sky.
Leaning against the entrance door of the bakery, she covered her face with her hands, trying not to scream. I could’ve just baked a cake at home! she mentally screamed at herself. Or a random cake from a nearby bakery! Dorian would love any cake!
Dorian… just thinking about his delighted expression when he found out she walked for 30 minutes in heels to his favourite bakery made her feel the adrenaline. This was going to work. She was going to make him the happiest man alive.
She hoped he’d understand that she’d be late today.
***
By the time he’d gotten through halfway through the recipe, the sun was already setting.
Groaning, he laid down on the sofa and swung his legs over the armrest, which knocked over the nearby table lamp and landed on the floor with a thud. Whatever. The house was a mess anyway.
Slowly, the situation started to dawn on him, and he quickly sat up, anxious. He cursed himself as he picked up everything that had fallen or broken due to his clumsiness and started to rearrange the entire house. Meanwhile, the pot that had the boiling stew had been overfilled, making the entire stove filled with stew. Things led to one another, and soon the stove caught fire. Flames danced as they spread through the shelves, smoke quickly enveloping the entire kitchen and the living room.
Hurriedly calling the fire department, Dorian tried to reduce the fire by using his fire extinguisher. At this point, he knew how to use it because this had already happened two times before. The fire department knew his name and address by heart.
***
By the time Aubrey reached home, her feet were caked with dirt and bruised, her hair was a mess and her arms ached from carrying the cake, the gifts, her bag, and heels from the bakery to her house.
As she limped towards her house, she caught a glimpse of a fire truck leaving in the far distance. There was a red motorcycle parked near their gate, which she assumed belonged to a delivery guy from one of her favourite restaurants.
Her heart skipped a beat. Did Dorian order her favourite food? Was he home? She was soon self-conscious about the way she looked… never mind. She could just go take a bath and come out looking fabulous. She was sure Dorian would appreciate her hard work. This day could still work out. They had time.
She limped faster, still holding the cake, her bag, gifts, and heels. The occasional cold gusts of wind sent shudders down her spine, but it was fine. Some onlookers stared at her pityingly and in confusion, but it was fine. Today was going to be a good day!
As soon as the delivery guy headed out of their house, she staggered inside and rang the doorbell. She heard something crash, then footsteps and she was soon greeted by Dorian’s excited face which was covered in soot. “Salutations, Your High- WHY ARE YOU CRYING?”
“Crying?” Aubrey hadn’t realized hot tears were streaming down her cheeks. She sniffed and handed the stuff to him, not making eye contact. Why had she been crying? She was home with him. This, she thought to herself as Dorian brought her inside, was supposed to be a happy day.
As soon as Dorian kept the cake and everything on a nearby table, she collapsed on the floor next to him, groaning. Waves of exhaustion crashed over her, making her unable to move an inch. Her mind was suddenly hazy, her eyelids threatening to close forever. Why do people even bother celebrating anniversaries at this point? This was all so much hard work! Every day with Dorian was a blessing- there was no need to do all this just for one specific day!
“What happened- your FEET!”
Before she could explain herself, Aubrey had fallen asleep.
***
The first thing she heard was a man’s voice: “- and dehydration. Make sure she takes these medicines, eats well and drinks plenty of water. And in houses, make sure she isn’t stressed. For now, let her rest.”
That must’ve been the doctor. She opened her eyes to see the ceiling fan being covered in dust. It’s dustier than usual, she noticed and then turned to the side of the couch to see Dorian saying goodbye to the doctor as he left. They were in the living room, which was strangely decorated with paper streamers and soot. Plus, she detected some of the stuff broken: a picture frame, a vase, a ceramic showpiece…
Another observation was that the kitchen door was closed, which was weird because they never closed the kitchen door.
This meant only one thing: their kitchen had caught fire for the third time. No wonder she had seen the fire truck that time!
Dorian rushed to her with a jug full of water and a glass and knelt. “Are you okay- we bandaged your feet- DO NOT MOVE- you look pretty without the mascara streaming down your cheeks- you look pretty either way- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU- why were you crying- do you feel nauseous- drink water-wait don’t drink lying down- there you go- okay now-”
“I’m alright,” Aubrey reassured him after taking a few sips. “I feel better, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t even do anything,” he mumbled, sitting cross-legged next to her couch. “You could’ve called me or something. What happened? Do you even know how worried I was when I saw you in that state?”
“Did I look ugly?”
“You want me to be honest?”
She snorted and coughed; the water almost spilled through her nose. She sighed. “It’s a looong story. By then our anniversary will be finished. I’ll fill you in during dinner.” She looked around. “This was a surprise though. Care to explain?”
“Yeah, um, first off: happy anniversary!” His smile reminded her of those labrador dogs’ smiles. “We survived a year together as a married couple! Without burning the house down!”
“Dorian, you burnt down the kitchen two times-”
“And second off… this is the third time I burnt the kitchen.” His smile fell, making her heart sink simultaneously. “I am extremely sorry- I tried to follow a recipe, okay, your favourite one from that fancy restaurant, and it wasn’t supposed to be that hard and then-”.
He babbled on the story, occasionally stopping to encourage her to drink more water or asking how her legs felt. She laughed, feeling her energy coming back because of his enthusiasm to celebrate this day with her. Today was nearly ending but that didn’t matter. It was already memorable enough.
Dorian carried her to the dining table, all while apologizing and telling her that he ordered all her favourite meals and a new jewellery set. This entire time, he hadn’t asked about the stuff she’d gotten him. She told him to get that stuff and keep it on the dining table.
After doing that, Dorian poured a glass of red wine into two wine glasses and handed one to Aubrey. “To our first anniversary. I hope we survive another year together.”
Aubrey nodded and patted the wrapped-up cologne set. “To our first anniversary. I hope our next anniversary won’t result in our kitchen being burnt down or me being hospitalized."
