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twelve

Silk. Linen. While the interwoven nature of the two fabrics symbolized the state of her twelve-year marriage well, they weren't the type of gifts she was on the hunt for. The gifts evoked stability, but stable could become boring.

Liv sat quietly, staring at the two words she had written at the top of the notepad she had with her. It didn't require much thought to cross linen out. Linen was not the answer to forever. Silk, however, could work. In the right context.

It made her smile to picture the look he would have on his face if he woke the morning of their anniversary tied to the bed. With silk scarves, of course.

They had to be going on close to fifteen years by now. Here, none of that history was necessary. Within fifteen minutes of meeting him, she would've been able to guess he wasn't the type to appreciate that loss of control.

That was part of the reason they worked so well together, though. Because as much as he wasn’t, she was.

With that in mind, she went to work on his present. Once finished, she had a small, demure, flat box in front of her, tied with a bow. Inside, four black silk scarves with a handwritten note on top. The neatly folded and stacked fabric hidden within weren’t the present, however. It was what he would do with them.

Her antiquated take on the theme was met with his more modern interpretation. Pearls. One necklace to wear out in public. Along with another pearl necklace she would surely be receiving soon enough that was for his eyes only.

She looked forward to it. Along with many more to come.