Poison and Cure

XXIII - Success

بسم الله
In the name of God
October 8th, 2004 9:46pm
Seoul, South Korea, Hotel & The Concert Hall of Information

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"Oliver! What colour should I wear?"

I'm currently surveying the stuffed contents of my suitcase. I haven't really been outside of the country except for Umrah and Hajj, so I didn't really know what to pack.

Stuck in between maroon and a dark mint coloured abayah, I decided to ask Oliver for help.

As he appears in the doorway, I hold up a silk maroon abaya and a silk mint one, "Which one?"

He stares at me. Not at the clothes, but directly at me, at my face then down to my toes. He's wearing grey sweatpants and an old Anime t-shirt which slightly wrinkles as he leans on the doorframe, his shoulder pressing into the wood.

"Oliver, we leave in thirty minutes, can you please help me choose?"

"Are you sure you want to go to the event?"

My shoulders slump slightly, "You don't like either of them?"

"I do. You look beautiful in everything. But I'm asking if you really want to go."

"Yes, of course, I do. I want to support you."

He inhales before exhaling through his mouth,

"There's nothing I want more than to spend the day with you in bed."

"We've already done that."

"We should do more."

A short silence follows, "Where is this coming from?"

"You're naked."

I look down at my body, "I'm not. I'm wearing a t-shirt and shorts."

"And I can see through both of them."

I then cover myself by bringing the dresses to my chest.

"Anyway, we can't miss this for desires, husband. What you'll be doing is life-changing."

He has a small grin on his face as he says, "Yes, but I think a night with you would be much more memorable to me and even more life-changing."

"That's a bad decision, Oliver."

"I'll risk it."

No. I try to sound convincing, to combat whatever selfish desires I'm sharing with him,

"But your speech is important."

"I'm currently failing to see that, Genesis."

"But... But you've been waiting for this for a while. It's the whole reason we came here."

His voice churns into charisma and it becomes softer, almost lulling, "All the fame and discoveries in the world pale in comparison to you. I'm fine with putting it off. I can reschedule. I don't mind at all."

Should I stop objecting? I mean, what's the harm in fulfilling the rights of your spouse?

He takes the abayas from me before tugging me into a hug, bending down slightly.

The scent of his skin is as good as it always is, with a light masculine cologne that makes my fingers tingle and goosebumps rise. The scent of a man is so good. Intoxicating, even.

Of course, he knows that, too, and he's hoping to convince me by appealing to my love of good scents. But I don't know how I even revealed it to him.

Even so, if he asks for me again, I won't be able to deflect him again.