Ex fianced Regret

(Heather's POV)

My heart raced as I stood in front of the vanity mirror, smoothing out my evening gown. The soft fabric hugged my curves, and the delicate straps accentuated my face. I took a deep breath, the scent of lavender and vanilla filling my nostrils. Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper, fussed over my hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.

"He'll love it, dear," Mrs. Smith whispered, her warm voice reassuring. "You look stunning."

My eyes met hers in the mirror, a look of uncertainty visible. "Do you think so, Mrs. Smith? I want tonight to be perfect."

"Of course, and I doubt that Mr. Winston will be able to take his eyes off you tonight." She assured, offering me a wide grin.

Speaking of my husband, Roland Winston, as Mrs. Smith continued to primp and fuss, I absentmindedly let a smile appear at the corners of my lips as I recalled what tonight was all about. It is our fifth year wedding anniversary, and for the first time since we got married, Roland had decided that we celebrate it.

A brief silence descended as I reminisced on how he had informed me about the anniversary dinner he had planned for us, the previous night. I was genuinely surprised because Roland never showed interest in celebrating our anniversary for the five years we have been together as man and wife.

"Maybe, he is finally falling for you." A voice in my head whispered, and a grin had enveloped my face.

"Snap out of it, Ma. You shouldn't keep him waiting." Mrs. Smith chided, snapping me out of my mini reverie.

"That's right," I concurred, blinking my hazy eyes.

"You should be on your way now," Mrs. Smith walked to the window and parted the curtains. "I can see the driver waiting." She announced.

"Do you think he would love me in red?" I blurted. I was suddenly worried, as I gazed at my reflection. I felt a sense of trepidation. What did Roland have planned for tonight? And why was he being so secretive about it?

After Roland announced our outing last night, I had quickly logged into a famous female online fashion shop and ordered a red dinner gown. My color taste was influenced by Winston's undying love for red.

He told me he loved it on 'her' and after we got married, I tried to fall in love with red even though I would rather be in a beige gown or any color that is not red.

To please him further, I had decided to complement the dress with the ancient heirloom jewelries his mother gifted me on our wedding day. It was my first time putting them on, and like the red gown, I would rather be in my sapphire jewelries than those medieval stones his mother attached some sentimental traditional value to.

But I have no choice, I would do anything I perceive would help keep my marriage to Roland Winston intact. Even if it means stepping into 'her' shoes and keeping up with his narcissistic mother.

"You should get going, Ma. Don't worry, I will clean after you." Mrs. Smith said instead, ignoring my question.

I nodded and grabbed my clutch purse on the table. With one last glance at the mirror, I head towards the door.

"And, Mrs. Smith?" I called out, stopping at the door. "You can retire to bed and, please, do not stay up."

"Noted," she replied, but it was not so hard to miss the underlying sarcasm her tone bore.

Who was I kidding? Mrs. Smith was certainly waiting up until Roland and I returned.

"Be safe, Heather. Try not to eat or drink anything that would put you in harm's way. Remember the state you are in now," Mrs. Smith said, her tone dripping with motherly concern.

I abruptly turned to offer the older woman a grateful smile. She probably is the only one who cares about me in the family.

"I will," I replied, and with that, I strode out of the room. Carefully, I ascended the stairs and made my way outside, to the waiting car.

I got in, and after strapping my seat belt into place, the driver drove off. The journey was not a lengthy one as the car soon pulled up in a restaurant parking lot.

As I stepped out, awed by the restaurant exotic ambience, the driver courteously offered me a smile and a hand to assist me into the pavement.

I took in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool evening breeze while my eyes darted to the signboard at the top of the building.

"Vino e Cucina," I mumbled the name of the restaurant, which translates to "Wine and Kitchen," in Italy.

That instant, my heart welled up in joy at Roland's thoughtfulness. I had hinted a couple of times in the past about my love for Italian dishes, but Roland had never paid heed to it.

With this act of his, I am finally convinced that he had not taken me out on a date in an Italian restaurant because he didn't care, but because he was waiting for the right time. And the appropriate time is today–our fifth wedding anniversary, I reasoned, a wistful smile plastered on my face.

I pushed the thoughts aside and continued on my way to the entrance door. At the door, a cheerful waitress was there to welcome me.

"Welcome, Mrs. Winston. I will lead you to your table," the waitress announced.

I returned her smile and let her lead me to the table Roland had reserved for us, even though I could not help but wonder why there was no single soul inside the restaurant.

And then I saw him, and abruptly, my breath hitched in my throat. It's been years, since my high school days, and he still has the same intoxicating effect on me.

At the extreme end of the restaurant, close to the window, sat a strikingly handsome man with curly Auburn hair, blue eyes and a well-built masculine body. That man was my husband–Roland Winston.