It was a flower bouquet and a dinner dress. A note was attached to it. She reached for the note. It read:
> "I'm very certain you're done with your exams, and no doubts—you did well, 'My Computer Expert.' The dress is for you. I'd like to take you on a little outing to celebrate your years spent in the university. And also, have you visit my studio. Call me."
—Ed.
On the back of the note was a small painting of a peach flower. He was a sweetheart. She picked up her phone and dialed his number.
Edward was cleaning up his studio. He had just put the finishing touches on a painting of Tina. He wanted to surprise her and hoped she'd love it. His phone rang. It was Tina. He answered.
"Hello," he said.
"Hi, Edward. I saw the present."
"I hope you like them?"
"Yes, I do. It's beautiful," she said and inhaled deeply. They were beautiful indeed. Gifting was her love language—alongside hugs and words of assurance.
"I'm glad you do. I want to take you out, and also have you visit my studio."
"You paint?"
"Yes, I do."
"That's nice."
There was a pause.
"How were the exams?" he asked.
"'Twas fine."
"What time should I come pick you up?"
"Six p.m. is okay. What do you think?"
"Six it is. See you then."
"Bye." She hung up.
Tina stared at the dress. She held it up for a full look. It was black silk—body-hugging, backless, and long-sleeved. It stopped just above her knees. She planned to pair it with silver heels. A glance at the clock told her there was still time. She would nap for a while.
---
She held onto his arm as tightly as she could. He thought blood might come gushing out, but he let her be. From the screen, fear and pity crawled up her neck; she thought she might choke on it.
"She had a seizure last night..."
The words echoed in Cherry's ears. She zoned out and, in that moment, understood just how powerful hallucinations could be.
They were at the cinema watching Tyler Perry's Straw. Frank kept her close. She was breaking down in tears—silently. Though she was clearly traumatized by someone else's story on screen, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked, even in tears.
How could someone look that pretty while crying?
Her red short dress clung to her hourglass figure, her legs stretched out beneath its folds. It was sleeveless—her fragile arms trembled as she cried for Janiyah. Her brown skin glowed even in the dim light, her black curls bouncing gently. Her long lashes held tears, and her nose leaked them too. Can noses cry? Her full lips shimmered with red gloss.
She looked stunning. He swallowed—nothing.
---
Outside the cinema, they walked toward his car, a BMW.
Girls love BMWs, Cherry would often think when she saw it. She felt good knowing someone who drove a reputable car was hers.
"That movie nearly had me on the floor," Cherry said, walking closely beside Franklin. She held her black handbag with one hand and wiped her face with the other. There was nothing on her face—just a trace of pity.
"You chose Straw. I expected the breakdown," he said.
"You didn't shed a tear."
"I may not cry, but I felt it. Janiyah suffered."
"The fact that her daughter died already—Oh my God."
"The story's unclear. Do you think she'd been in that hallucination for longer than just a day?"
"Uhhm... how?"
"Maybe the baby died months ago. The teacher at the school looked so surprised when Janiyah showed up that morning with nobody. If the baby just died the night before, the school wouldn't have noticed yet. Maybe her mother just told her that to break the delusion."
They were silent. He wondered if he made sense; she tried to follow.
"Don't mind me. I overthink stuff," he said at last.
"Nah, it's cool. I get your point. Let's just stay in the lane," she said, laughing. He laughed too.
He was leaning against the back of his BMW, arms folded, legs crossed, watching her. She stood shyly, trying to suppress a laugh she couldn't explain. She walked up and hugged him, resting her head on his chest.
"What a night," she said.
"Tyler Perry gave us a good show... and trauma to sleep with," he chuckled. Silence followed.
"I love you, Cherry," he said, casually.
She didn't move. Didn't say anything.
"Did you know that?" he asked.
"I noticed," she replied, still resting there.
"I want you to be my woman. My only woman. I want to spoil you, take you to every cinema in New York—and across America, even Europe. I want to watch you feel every story. You look beautiful when you're serious. I nearly kissed you in there."
She laughed.
"Am I worthy enough?" he asked.
"For what?"
"To be your man."
"Well, I love your BMW for sure," she said, stifling a laugh. It sounded like music to him.
"I noticed," he smiled, brushing her bare shoulders.
"And I love you too. I love how you love me."
"Don't finish the lines. I've got more," he said, and they both laughed.
"I always liked you. Now I love you. My friend paints—I'll learn from him, just so I can paint you."
She raised her head from his chest and looked up at him.
"You and these lines," she said. "Turn them into food."
"I'm starving," he translated. She laughed. He pecked her cheek.
"So... what do you say about my proposal?"
"I gotta eat first."
"Is that a yes?"
"Maybe," she whispered, smiling.
"I love you, Cherry," he said again. She kissed him, and he held her waist, pulling her close to prolong the kiss. She stopped and laughed.
He opened the car door for her. Once she was seated, he walked around and got in beside her. She tried calculating—how many times had they laughed tonight?
---
Tina stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked amazing. The dress fit perfectly. For the first time in months, she saw her curves again. She gently adjusted her chest to ensure her nipples didn't show through the silk. She turned and admired her backside.
She was gorgeous—radiant. Her creamy back sparkled. Her hair was well-combed and neatly packed. Her makeup was light, accentuating her natural beauty. Jewelry on. Heels on. She spritzed perfume all over—Valentino.
The doorbell rang. Her heart raced. It had to be Edward.
It rang again.
She walked to the door, counted to ten, and swung it open.