Routines, plans, dreams, and habits are characteristics present in much of our lives, especially when we enter adulthood, and even more so when we become independent.
Among the many habits I had, waking up at five in the morning, ten minutes before the scheduled alarm clock on my cell phone, was one of the most characteristic. Not because I'm forced to get up early, but because I love admiring the sunrise.
Perhaps for many, sunrise is simply a daily occurrence. An occurrence so common that few of us take the time to admire the ephemeral magic that lies within it.
I suppose my professional vocation influences my perspective, although I also love watching the way the sky changes its hues as the clouds fly by at high speed and the rising sun enlivens the morning.
However, that morning, as I woke up, as I rubbed my eyes and let out a sigh, I heard a peculiar sound.
Insistent, light knocking on our bedroom window and the absence of morning birdsong allowed me to sense it was raining.
I turned around and glanced at the woman sleeping next to me.
She, whom I had once believed to be my unrequited love, continued to sleep soundly, displaying a vulnerability that prompted me to play a little joke on her, although I restrained myself.
So I got up with extreme caution and cautiously headed to the bathroom so as not to disturb her restful sleep.
However, my attempt not to wake her was in vain, as she grumbled with dissatisfaction and took a deep breath before sighing and asking the time; seeing her in that state was charming to me.
When I answered, she frowned and childishly covered herself completely, while I took the opportunity to slightly open the window curtain and take a look outside.
The dark clouds kept the darkness in that part of the city, and the heavy downpour barely allowed a glimpse of the horizon, so I closed the curtain and continued with my morning routine.
A few minutes later, after taking a cold shower to wake up, I thought I heard her footsteps in the bedroom.
Out of curiosity, I left the bathroom, thinking she had gotten up, but when I did, I noticed she was still in bed.
Since I'd never been a believer in the paranormal and didn't pay attention to the details of the footsteps I heard, I finished drying myself and dressed in comfortable clothes to go to the kitchen.
That day was special for us; we were celebrating another year of dating.
Therefore, I wanted to surprise her and show her that, even though cooking wasn't my strong suit, I was capable of doing it for her. I still Googled a simple pancake recipe.
Minutes later, and focused on my role as a chef, I didn't notice her sudden presence, as she entered the kitchen with cautious steps and bit my shoulder, just as she had done during our early years of dating.
"Happy anniversary! My love, my heart... All mine!" she exclaimed excitedly.
I almost dropped the pancake mix in the pan.
In fact, I poured too much batter into the pan, resulting in a thick pancake.
"Damn! You're going to scare me to death one of these days," I complained, disgusted, as she laughed. "Happy anniversary," I said afterward, captivated by her beautiful smile.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat in the dining room to watch me prepare the pancakes.
Maybe she didn't fully trust me when it came to cooking, and I didn't blame her, since she had caused a couple of accidents in previous years.
At first, she kept her brow furrowed as a sign of her seriousness, but suddenly, when she noticed I wasn't having any trouble in the kitchen, she broke into a smile that, far from changing my mood, distracted me on a couple of occasions. I found it hard to ignore how beautiful she was, and as a result, I let two pancakes burn.
"How do you want your pancakes?" I asked.
"With butter and honey," she replied, still staring at me.
"If you know I love your eyes, you should stop staring at me... I can't concentrate," I said.
"I just can't stop staring at you... What's my fault that my boyfriend looks handsome and sexy while cooking?" she retorted in a mischievous voice.
I just smiled and focused on preparing the last few pancakes, because if I played along, I knew we'd both fall for it.
Minutes later, as we sat in the dining room having breakfast and chatting about new art trends, she frowned and looked at me with a sad look.
"I did my best," I anticipated.
She smiled sweetly, though that sadness lingered in her eyes.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, a hint of concern.
"I don't feel like working today. I want to stay with you all day and celebrate our anniversary," she replied.
I wanted the same thing, but at that point in our lives, it was complicated.
"I'd like to stay with you too," I said, in a gentle tone of voice, "but we have bills to pay and we have to prioritize our savings."
"I know, but..."
She interrupted herself and paused briefly, seeming to search for an excuse to change my mind.
"I'd like to make an exception, just for today. Besides, the sky is falling with this downpour; we could use that as an excuse at work," she suggested.
My sense of responsibility gave way, so after finishing breakfast, I called my boss's office to let them know I couldn't come into work that morning.
She did the same with her superiors and got a positive response, as did I, so we were finally able to stay home for our anniversary.
Miranda Ferrer, that beautiful woman I met at the National Institute of Fine Arts and with whom I fell in love the more I got to know her, was a teacher at the Catholic School of Ciudad Esperanza and also in charge of the institution's cultural events.
Meanwhile, I strayed slightly from my vocation due to the good salary they offered me and worked at the renowned Mendoza Real Estate Agency.
Mendoza Real Estate Agency was one of the most important companies in the country, where I served as assistant to the Human Resources Manager.
Anyway, to make sense of our relationship, I must go back to my college days, when I attended the University of Río Grande.
It was the only university in my hometown that offered a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree.
But it was thanks to a scholarship I received from the National Institute of Fine Arts that I was able, beyond venturing to Ciudad Esperanza, the country's capital, and pursuing my professional training, to meet the girl with whom I fell madly in love.
Miranda Ferrer entered my heart from the first moment I saw her and won it over, never to leave, not even in the worst moments of our lives.
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Hello, nice to meet you... You can call me Araguaney.
I'm a Venezuelan writer pursuing the dream of reaching many readers. I'm truly passionate about writing, which is why I'm using this platform to reach English-speaking readers.
As you can see, the writing isn't well-written. This is because I don't speak English and I'm using a virtual translator. I hope this doesn't hinder your understanding of the plot.
That said, I appreciate everyone who will start reading this story, as well as those who take the time to comment and share it. Thanks a million, and see you in the next chapter!