The evening ran very smoothly, and it was almost time for me to present her with my affectionate gift. ‘Any more wine Rose?’ I leaned over and poured her another glass of white wine, and with that she took hold of my tie and tugged it, an indication for me to kiss her, to which I did not hesitate. ‘I really love you’ she said as I drew back on my warm chair. Her long black hair and prosperous smile delivered good intensions in my mind. I anticipated it was the right moment, and I slowly raised myself off the chair. ‘I’ve got something for you!’ I said and then walked off into the kitchen. Thinking about it now I presume she had expected something else, more – intimate. Nevertheless I still remember walking back into the living room noticing a damp odour, yet I ignored it as it melted in with the atmosphere of the romantic evening. With a small cake upon a tray in my hands I walked gently over to the table where Rose sat, and there before her lavish eyes I set the luscious cake down. She examined it, probably looking at the round cream swirls that lay atop it, and the ring of fresh fruit covered with sprinkles of icing sugar.
My gift was not the cake but the small round metal bangle that the cake bore. The bangle was very small, rather a hoop, yet greater in size than a ring. Cleverly I had placed this hoop inside the cake, so that rose could see it. ‘Wow, oh darling this looks sweet just like you and your thoughts’ she said with a sexy smile. With such a reply, I was convinced she liked the gift and that she saw the hoop. However I waited for her to take the hoop out, which was neatly tucked above the surface of the cake. ‘There’s more!’ I added.
I watched her as she elegantly cut the minuet cake, she cut a reasonable sized piece and popped it in my mouth, and the she went on to cut the cake further, this time she cut a smaller piece. She smiled and she lifted the piece of cake to her mouth. I noticed something rather odd about that cake piece in particular. Apart from the dark refreshing colour of the black berries and the strong redness of the strawberries, there was something else which was not quite blending in with the tasty light brown colour of the cake, and suddenly I realised with great shock that it was the metal hoop. Before I could cry out, she placed the cake gracefully in her mouth, - I stopped breathing. I just glanced at her, she just chewed. I sighed with uppermost relief. She smiled and I replied with a wink of my left eye. ‘Maybe the hoop is still in the cake’ – I questioned my mind, and then carefully examined the cake, and then set my eyes on her face again studying it as I heard a soft metallic crunch. Her face was gleaming red, and before all else I realised she stopped chewing. Speckles of tears arose from her eyes as I froze. Her expression full - face changed to show a disgusted smile and then unexpectedly she spat out the cake half chewed, with utter distaste. With the cake rolled the metal hoop, covered with bits of wet cake onto the table. The hoop was glowing red, from which I implied Rose was bleeding. With a horrific and loathing expression she spat out more blood. My heart plummeted, before I could blink I saw a white wine bottle approaching my face at great speed, ‘Wait, Rose, listen! ROSE!’ Before I could finish I was gashed in the face. I cannot describe the pain, and yet I do not desire to.
A few days later I found myself in court. My face was giving me discomfort, though it was covered with bandages which eased it a little. I faced the disgusted jury in defence of ‘Trying to murder my girlfriend indirectly with use of a hoop forged of metal!’ I had failed, and with a soft tear in my eyes I tried to explain that I loved Rose, and the hoop was a valentine’s gift, a symbol of our love. I told them that my love for rose was never-ending, just like the circle of the hoop, the fact that it was made out of metal proved that my love for her was strong and solid, never to be undone. The gleam of the metal proved that our love had the flourishing rays of the sun shining upon it.
I couldn’t tell whether Rose showed or felt affection, maybe she didn’t, or it could be that she kept it to herself. Whatever she thought, I never looked in her path again, and however much I loved her.