birdcage | ongoing

thirty-three| saviour

October 2010
• • •

"You can choose whichever one you'd like."

Winona's gaze floated around the room from dress to dress, unable to shake off the feeling of foreboding in her stomach. She sent a glance over to Harry, reading the smile on his face for any insight into his thoughts. He was an expert at hiding them from her—she could never guess what exactly was running through his mind even from his blatant expressions. She wanted to know why he had brought her to this boutique and why he was hellbent on throwing away his money for a dress she would only wear for a day.

"Whichever one I want?" she asked, both enamoured and confused. "It doesn't matter?"

"Doesn't matter, Winona." Harry's hand reached out to her, and she accepted it, her foreboding replaced by excitement and delight once it dawned on her that he was, in fact, being genuine.

"I want to try on that one," she declared, pointing at the simple satin gown hanging on one of the mannequins. "Can I?"

"You can do whatever you like, my darling."

These past few weeks had been difficult, to say the least. Between seeing news of Wes' murder, her picture all over the television, and her recent abortion, this was one of the days where it seemed like things were finally looking up. Harry had been right when he said she worried too much. He did like he promised and took care of her problems one by one, starting with the issue of her mother. Their conversation this morning on their way to the city cemented his good intentions. He saved her—what more needed to be done?

They were endgame. In his little (and big) ways, he was always saving her.

It was the reason why she came to terms and decided to go through with marrying him after a week of mental deliberation. There was nothing left for her except Harry. And, in her honest opinion, she just wanted a reason to be happy. A reason to keep her waking up each day. Maybe her life would look up once they were wed. Maybe those awful dreams about her mother would cease and she could go to sleep without those little pills.

But of course, before they could get married, she had to buy a dress. It was Harry's idea. She figured that the only reason he suggested it was to draw out the smile from the depths of her anguish. And it worked. Winona felt like she once used to when she was a little girl escorting him on his errands to the city.

"Can I help you two with something?" An employee, a girl no older than Winona, appeared in front of them, wearing a polite smile. She expected a judgmental persona, but she was greeted by kindness.

"She would like to try on some dresses," Harry informed her, running his hand up and down her arm. Winona gazed up at him with adoration shining in her eyes. "She's excited to get married."

The girl—Marissa, her nametag read—grinned from ear to ear. "That's wonderful! Are you her father-in-law?"

Winona bit the inside of her cheek, too nervous to answer. Thankfully, Harry settled her curiosity, unfazed by the question. "No, I'm marrying her." He protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We're engaged."

"O-Oh!" Marissa recomposed herself from the shock, her gaze flickering to her left hand, which was ringless because this whole proposal situation was spontaneous. "I'm sorry for assuming. Of course, I can help her."

Winona was flooded by relief. At least there was one non-judgemental person in this city. "Can I try on that satin one? The one on the mannequin."

Because of their lack of distance, she could feel Harry's body shake with laughter. The light in his eyes was different. He always looked at her like he loved her, even as a child. Not that his love had faded. But his glow was held more passion than she had ever known him to have. That was a love that burned from the depths of his soul.