Tell Me Now,Are We Real?

It's 8 p.m., the sky has turned dark already. The cold wind blew hard, rushed Andrea to unlock the cottage door with a password she knew too well. She went inside and locked the door behind her. Just as she took off her coat and scarf, her phone dinged. She glanced to the screen, "Sorry, a sudden family meeting. Don't wait up, love you."

Andrea unconciously sighed. That day was their fifth anniversary as a couple. Andrea's boyfriend was the famous Henry Allen, the son of the richest man in the country. He's the sole heir to the gigantic Allen Group. No one knew about their relationship, and it's been a difficult journey to hide it.

Andrea stepped into the room slowly, eyes taking in the scene. Her heart caught somewhere between sorrow and gratitude. The dining room looked nothing like it usually did. On the table, bouquets of fresh flowers spilled across the center: soft pink roses, white ranunculus, delicate sprays of baby's breath.

At one end of the table sat a small, round strawberry cake, the cream blush pink and smooth, with glazed slices of strawberries layered like petals on top. A single silver fork rested beside it, as if waiting for a shared bite. Two wine glasses caught the candlelight, already half filled with a deep red vintage. The bottle sat nearby.

Henry specially prepared this place to celebrate their anniversary. It was one of the Allen's vacation houses, few hours drive from the city, private, secluded, and suitable for their secret getaways. The cottage sat in a clearing, nestled between tall pine trees.

She pulled out a dining chair and sit there, stretched her arms and legs after a two-hour drive. She then grabbed her phone and replied Henry's text, "I just arrived. No worry, take your time."

That night was cold and snowy. Andrea then lazily moved herself to the couch, wrapped herself with a thick blanket that already being prepared there. She grabbed the remote control and turned the TV on. Flipping between channels, until she stopped in an old romance movie. She let a sigh out again, the cottage was perfect and totally romantic. It should've been him and her inside this comfy blanket. But again, she had to wait.

Five years. She patiently wait when Henry had meetings or sudden problems in his company. Sometimes he unexpectedly cancel their dates because he had to fly to other country. She completely understood that Henry had to bear a lot things as the CEO of Allen Group. But tonight she felt tired, hiding and lying to people around her just to be with him. But that was not all. The ache of pretending was the worst. It felt sting to pretend that he was a stranger.

Andrea moved her eyes from the TV, she blanky stared to the window to see that it almost dawn already. She yawned repeatedly and stared back to the TV. She thought maybe Henry could not make it this time, so she planned to drive back to the city once the sun has risen.

The perfect temperature of the room, the dim light, the sound of crackling firewood, slowly sent Andrea to sleep. The TV was still on, the dialogue blurred into static. Words became sound. Sound became nothing. It was just white noise now as Andrea drifted to sleep.

Just before she fell into a deep sleep. She felt the couch shifted, and warm hand touched her cheek, rubbing it several times. "Henry?" she opened her eyes to find a face she's been waiting for. His face looked tired, a faint smile accross his face as if he tried to hide his exhaustion.

His eyes screamed regrets, "Andrea Evans, I don't know what must I do to express how sorry I am." he said very softly.