Work Text:
It’s moving day. Aglaea stands in her bedroom, scanning every corner for the third time, making sure she hasn’t left anything behind before the moving truck pulls up.
The closet is bare. The cabinets are empty. Her suitcases and boxes sit neatly stacked by the door.
Satisfied, she exhales and turns toward the door.
Clink.
Her hip bumps the edge of the vanity. Something shifts loose, and a small white envelope slips from the cracks and flutters to the floor, landing beside her foot.
“Huh? What’s this?” Aglaea murmurs, crouching down to pick it up.
The envelope is worn at the edges, yellowed with age, as though it has been waiting, hidden, for years. A golden wax seal gleams faintly in the dim light, still unbroken.
Aglaea frowns, brows knitting. “I… don’t remember this.”
Her thumb lingers on the seal. No one has ever mentioned giving her an envelope like this. Her pulse quickens, curiosity gnawing at her hesitation. With a shaky breath, she cracks the wax and opens it.
Inside is a handwritten letter, ink looping in graceful cursive. Tucked behind it is a small bundle of polaroid photos.
The moment she sees them, the air rushes out of her lungs.
Her hands tremble. The edges of the photos dig into her fingertips as she flips through them one by one. In every frame, she is there—smiling, laughing—beside a tall man with unmistakable green hair
Her vision blurs. She staggers back, nearly dropping the photos, her knees weak.
“No… it can’t be…” The words scrape out of her throat in a whisper.
But it is. There is no mistaking him.
Anaxagoras.
Her ex-fiancé.
Three years ago.
Aglaea hurries down the bustling streets of Manhattan, weaving between tourists and office workers on their lunch breaks. Her heels click sharply against the pavement, and her white gown flutters in the breeze. She’s on her way to a cozy café she visits often, already picturing the quiet corner table and her usual order.
Just as she reaches for the café door, it bursts open from the other side.
A man steps out, and collides straight into her, hard enough to knock her a step back.
Hot coffee splashes across her chest and drips down the pristine fabric.
“My dress!” Aglaea cries, clutching at the fabric in horror, as a large brown blotch spreads over the white silk.
The man—tall, lean, with striking green hair that catches the sunlight—stares at her with wide eyes. Steam curls from the now half-empty cup in his hand. His expression softens into guilt.
“My apologies.” He says quickly, voice low and laced with concern. “I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”
Aglaea’s cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment. People passing by glance at the scene, and her pride bristles under their stares.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a stain like this out of white fabric?!” She snaps, tugging the ruined gown away from her body as if that could undo the damage.
He flinches at her sharp tone but doesn’t argue. Instead, he steps closer, his gaze steady.
“I said I was sorry.” He replies calmly. “Here, let me help.”
Before Aglaea can stop him, he crouches slightly, reaching for the stained fabric.
Aglaea instinctively retreats half a step, clutching the fabric protectively. “W–what are you doing?!”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls out tissues from his pocket with practiced ease and begins dabbing carefully at the damp spot, his touch surprisingly gentle. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he produces a stain remover stick and runs it over the fabric.
Aglaea blinks, caught between indignation and disbelief. Who carries around a stain remover stick?
After a minute, the dark blotch fades, leaving only the faintest shadow of discolouration. He straightens, brushing his hands off, and gives a small, satisfied nod. “There. When you get home, soak it in vinegar, then wash it with laundry detergent. The stain should be gone completely.”
Aglaea stares down at her dress, fingers brushing the damp spot. Her lips part slightly in surprise. “…I knew that.” She exhales, her irritation giving way to reluctant gratitude. “But… thank you. Most guys would’ve just walked away like a jerk.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “It’s the least I could do after nearly ruining your gown.”
He extends his hand toward her, palm open. “I’m Anaxa. Nice to meet you, lovely lady.”
Aglaea hesitates only a second before taking his hand. His grip is warm, steady.
“I’m Aglaea.” She replies, her earlier frustration melting into a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you too.”
Anaxa tilts his head slightly, studying her with a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Aglaea… that’s a nice name.” He says, letting it roll off his tongue as if savouring it. “Why don’t I treat you to some coffee as an apology?”
Aglaea blinks, caught off guard. Her heart skips a beat, though she tries not to show it. “A-are you sure? If you’re busy, you should go ahead and leave. You don’t need to treat me to anything.” She fiddles with the strap of her purse, half expecting him to wave it off and walk away.
Instead, Anaxa’s smile only deepens. “I’m free for the afternoon. Please, I insist.”
Aglaea's lips press together in hesitation, then curl into a reluctant smile. A faint blush warms her cheeks. “Oh… alright. If you say so.”
With a gentlemanly flourish, Anaxa steps to the café door and pulls it open. He dips his head slightly. “After you, my lady.”
Aglaea laughs under her breath, shaking her head at his theatrics. “Thank you,” she murmurs, stepping past him. A faint trace of his cologne—fresh, woodsy—lingers as he follows behind.
Inside, the café is warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of roasted beans and fresh pastries. The chatter of customers blends with the gentle hum of soft jazz.
Anaxa leads her toward a quiet corner table by the window. Pulling out a chair, he gestures gracefully. “Please.”
Aglaea sits down, smoothing her dress with practiced elegance. “You’re quite the gentleman.” She teases lightly.
“I try.” Anaxa replies with a grin before settling into the seat across from her.
A moment of silence passes, comfortable rather than awkward. Then he leans forward slightly. “So, what would you like?”
Aglaea picks up the menu, flipping through it though she already knows her order. “Probably a vanilla latte and some teacakes.” She says, a small grin tugging at her lips. “They make some really good teacakes here.”
“Then I’ll get the same thing as you.” Anaxa doesn’t even glance at his menu, closing it with a decisive snap.
Aglaea blinks ant him, amused. “You didn’t even look.”
“I trust your taste.”
Anaxa raises his hand, catching the attention of a nearby waiter. “Two vanilla lattes and a plate of teacakes, please.”
The waiter scribbles it down, then glances at him. “Anything else?”
Anaxa shakes his head politely. “That’ll be all. Thank you.”
The waiter nods once before leaving. The moment stretches, the buzz of other conversations filling the silence between them.
Aglaea tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again, then pushes back her chair. “I’ll go wash my hands. I’ll be right back.”
Anaxa leans back in his seat, watching her stand. “Alright. I’ll stay here and look after our things.”
Aglaea offers him a grateful nod before walking toward the restrooms, her heels clicking lightly against the tile floor. She doesn’t see it, but his gaze lingers on her until she disappears from sight.
A few minutes later, Aglaea returns from the restroom, her hands lightly damp from washing. She smooths her dress as she approaches the table.
“I’m back.”
Anaxa looks up, his lips curling into a warm smile. He gestures toward the plates. “Just in time. Our order just arrived. Dig in.”
Aglaea slides back into her chair, picking up a fork. She cuts into a teacake and takes a bite. Sweetness melts on her tongue, and her eyes brighten. “Mmm… just as I remember.”
Anaxa picks one up himself, taking a thoughtful bite before nodding in approval. “Yeah… they make great food here.”
For a while, they eat in comfortable silence, the hum of the café wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Then Anaxa leans forward, propping his elbows on the table as he absently stirs his latte, watching the swirl of cream.
“So,” he asks casually, “what do you do for a living?”
Aglaea sets her cup down, folding her hands neatly in her lap before meeting his eyes. “I’m a well-known fashion designer. Goldweaver Couture. Heard of it?”
Anaxa’s brows lift slightly, a flash of recognition in his expression. “I think I’ve seen some of your pieces here and there. They’re quite magnificent.”
Aglaea’s lips part in surprise before a soft smile forms. Compliments rarely fluster her, but something in his tone feels different, earnest. “Thank you. What about you? What do you do?”
Anaxa straightens slightly, his fingers still loosely circling the spoon in his cup. “I’m a university professor. I teach philosophy. Nothing that interesting.”
Aglaea raises a brow, amused. “Well, I think that’s impressive.”
Anaxa waves it off lightly, though there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes at her words. “Surely not as impressive as your works.”
Aglaea laughs, a playful glint in her eyes. “True.”
For a moment, they share a look that lingers just a little too long. Then Anaxa clears his throat softly, leaning back. “Do you want to exchange numbers?”
Aglaea arches a brow, tilting her head with mock suspicion. “Why?”
Anaxa’s smile widens, unbothered. “Because I think you’re lovely to talk to, and I’d like to hang out again.”
Aglaea narrows her eyes teasingly. “Are you trying to hit me up?”
“And if I am?” Anaxa counters smoothly, his voice light but edged with challenge.
Aglaea chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. With a hint of amusement in her eyes, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a slim business card. Sliding it across the table with two fingers. “Here’s my card. Contact me whenever you’d like.”
Anaxa picks it up delicately, turning it between his fingers, his eyes scanning the elegant gold lettering before tucking it carefully into his wallet. “Will do.”
Aglaea dabs her lips with a napkin, rising gracefully from her seat. “I should get going now. It was nice to meet you.”
Anaxa stands as well, his movements fluid, respectful. “Likewise. I’ll get the bill. You should get going.”
Aglaea pauses, offering him a warm smile. “Thank you. Have a lovely day ahead!”
Anaxa lifts his hand in a casual wave, a wide grin on his face. “You too!”
Aglaea turns and walks toward the door, her heels clicking against the floor. Unbeknownst to her, Anaxa’s gaze lingers long after she’s gone, his thumb brushing the edge of her card in his pocket.
When the café door shuts behind Aglaea, Anaxa lingers for a moment, staring at the space she’s just left. Then, shaking himself from his thoughts, he strides toward the counter.
“Hi.” He says politely, pulling out his wallet. “I’d like to pay for our order.”
The cashier looks up, blinking at him with a puzzled expression. “But it’s already been paid.”
Anaxa freezes mid-motion, his wallet halfway open. His brows knit together. “Huh? When?”
“Uhh…” The cashier flips open a small ledger, scanning quickly. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“What?!”
The cashier nods firmly, then adds with a faint smile, “A beautiful lady with blonde hair paid for you already.”
For a second, Anaxa just stares, processing. Then, realisation dawns. His lips curl into a slow grin as he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
So that’s why she said she needed to wash her hands. It wasn’t about the restroom at all. It was just an excuse to pay. That sly woman.
Anaxa snaps his wallet shut and slides it back into his pocket. “Oh, alright then. Thank you.”
With a polite nod, he turns and steps out of the café. The city air greets him, brisk and lively, but all he can think about is her.
As he walks down the street, he smirks to himself. I’m going to have to step up my game.
Ever since that afternoon, the two of them find excuses to meet again. At first, it started off with just an invitation to stroll through Central Park, to grab lunch at a new spot, or to visit an art exhibit one of them has heard about.
Their conversations stretch effortlessly, laughter spilling out between bites of food or pauses beneath the city lights.
Yet one thing becomes a recurring battle: who pays.
Every outing comes with a playful tug-of-war over the bill. Aglaea is quick, always finding a way to slip her card to the waiter first. Anaxa counters with bold strategies, pre-paying the check when she isn’t looking, leaving larger tips to “win” in a different way.
“Don’t think you can outwit me so easily.” Anaxa teases one evening, leaning back in his chair after dinner.
Aglaea smirks, arms crossed, golden hair glinting in the low restaurant light. “Try me.”
Eventually, they agree to take turns, a truce of sorts, though the sparkle in their eyes says the game is far from over.
What begins as friendly companionship soon shifts into something deeper. Their walks grow longer, their silences more comfortable. The playful teasing between them carries an undercurrent of unspoken affection.
Until one evening, beneath the fading glow of the city at dusk, Anaxa finally speaks the words lingering on his tongue. His voice is quiet but sure as he looks into her eyes.
“Aglaea… I have feelings for you. More than a friend should.”
Aglaea’s breath catches, her heart racing as she studies his face—sincere, unguarded, vulnerable.
And in that moment, what began as chance turns into choice.
They begin dating, their connection growing stronger with each passing day. For a year, their love weaves itself into their lives like golden thread. Steady. Vibrant. Undeniable.
Two years ago.
Anaxa’s fingers intertwine with Aglaea’s as he leads her carefully through the tall grass. The sun is low, casting the flower field in a warm golden glow.
“Where are we going?” Aglaea asks, her steps cautious, a blindfold tied snugly around her eyes. She stretches her free hand out, trying to keep balance.
“It’s a surprise.”
She huffs, her lips curving into a pout. “Why must you blindfold me? What if I fall?”
“Don’t worry,” Anaxa says smoothly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”
“Are you sure—AHHH!”
Aglaea’s foot snags on a rock hidden in the grass, and she stumbles forward with a startled gasp.
Before she can hit the ground, strong arms wrap around her waist. Anaxa pulls her close, steadying her against his chest. Her breath catches, her heartbeat racing from more than just the near fall.
“Woah. Careful there.” He murmurs, his breath brushing her ear.
Aglaea steadies herself, cheeks flushing as she tilts her face toward him. “Thank you… for catching me.”
“I told you I’d catch you if you fall, didn’t I?” His tone is playful, but his eyes linger on her face a second longer than necessary.
“Yeah, yeah.” Aglaea huffs lightly, trying to mask her fluster. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost.” Anaxa romises, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before guiding her forward again.
After a few more steps, he slows to a stop. She feels him adjust her shoulders, turning her toward something. His hands rest gently on hers.
“You can remove the blindfold now.”
Aglaea unties the fabric. When the cloth falls away, her eyes widen in astonishment.
Before her stands a beautiful gazebo, its beams wrapped in shimmering gold ribbons and adorned with bouquets of vibrant red roses. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the petals, painting the scene in shades of gold and crimson.
“Oh wow…” She breathes, her hand flying to her mouth. “It’s beautiful. Did you decorate it?”
Anaxa nods, watching her reaction intently. “Yes, I did. Do you like it?”
“I don’t like it… I love it!”
Relief and joy wash across Anaxa’s face. He takes her hand again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Why don’t you come inside? There’s another surprise waiting for you.”
“Another surprise?” Aglaea repeats, her voice trembling with excitement.
Anaxa guides her into the gazebo. Inside, a small table is set with a pristine white cake adorned with roses and tiny golden pearls. Written elegantly across the surface in chocolate script are four words:
Would you marry me?
Aglaea freezes, her hands flying up to her face. Her breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps. “W-what?!”
She whirls toward him, only to see him already on one knee, holding an open velvet box. Inside, the diamond ring glitters like starlight.
“Aglaea,” Anaxa says, voice trembling just slightly, “I know we’ve been dating for a year now, but the truth is… I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. You’re the only one I ever want in my life. My heart belongs to you, always.” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Aglaea… will you marry me?”
Tears spill freely down Aglaea’s cheeks, joy overwhelming her as she nods quickly. “Y-yes! Yes, I will!”
Relief floods Anaxa’s face as he rises to his feet. Carefully, he slips the ring onto her finger before pulling her into his arms. Their lips meet in a kiss that seals the promise between them.
When they part, he brushes a tear from her cheek, whispering tenderly. “I love you, my sweet little Buttercup.”
Aglaea laughs through her tears, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And I love you too, my dear Beansprout.”
A week before the wedding.
Aglaea is curled up on the sofa with her laptop open, working through last-minute seating charts when her phone buzzes with a notification. It’s from Cipher.
Cipher: Hey Agy… is this your man?
Cipher: [Photo of Anaxa, seated at a fancy restaurant. Across from him, a green-haired woman leans forward, smiling. The two look deep in conversation.]
Aglaea’s throat goes dry. Her fingers hover over the keyboard before she finally replies.
Aglaea: Yeah… that’s him.
Another message arrives almost instantly.
Cipher: ARE YOU SERIOUS?! IS HE CHEATING ON YOU DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING?!
Aglaea’s chest tightens. She stares at the photo again, her heart pounding louder with each passing second. No… no, he wouldn’t… would he?
Aglaea: I’m not sure. Could you… help me monitor them?
Cipher: Got it. Stalker mode activated 😼
Aglaea exhales shakily, clutching the phone in both hands. The minutes crawl by like hours. Her thoughts churn, swinging between denial and dread. Every vibration of her phone makes her jump.
Finally, thirty minutes later, her phone buzzes again.
Cipher: @Aglaea I have an update.
Aglaea’s pulse spikes.
Aglaea: What is it?
Cipher: So after dinner, they left together. He didn’t head back to his apartment. Instead… they went into a house down the street. Definitely not his place.
Aglaea stares at the message, frozen. The edges of her vision blur. Her hands tremble so badly she almost drops the phone.
Aglaea: … I see. Thank you for telling me. I’ll confront him when he comes back.
Cipher: You don’t have to thank me. That’s what friends are for. I’ve got your back. Always.
Aglaea lowers the phone, pressing it to her chest. Her heart is hammering, her stomach twisted into knots. A part of her refuses to believe it. He wouldn’t do this, not to me, not now.
But the seed of doubt has been planted. And it hurts more than anything.
A few hours later.
The apartment door clicks open. Anaxa steps inside, loosening his tie, his expression tired but calm. When he enters the bedroom, his steps falter.
Aglaea sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed tightly, her gaze sharp as daggers.
Anaxa blinks, masking his surprise with a faint smile. “It’s midnight, Buttercup. You should be asleep. Why are you still up?”
“Maybe because you went on a date with someone without telling me.” Aglaea replies, her voice cold and clipped.
“What date?”
Aglaea’s jaw clenches. A bitter laugh escapes her throat. “Don’t act dumb.”
With a sharp motion, she tosses her phone at him. He snatches it out of the air with practiced reflexes. The screen glows in his hand, the photo Cipher had sent glaring back at him: Anaxa at the restaurant with the green-haired woman.
A deafening silence stretches between them.
Finally, Anaxa exhales, handing the phone back. His tone is calm, steady. “Oh… that wasn’t a date. It was just a hangout. Don’t worry about it.” He leans closer, voice softening. “I promise I’m not cheating on you.”
Aglaea’s throat tightens. She wanted to scream, to demand the truth, but exhaustion pulls at her, and her fear of being wrong knots her words. Instead, she turns her face away from him, lips pressed in a thin line.
Anaxa sits down beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his chest. His warmth surrounds her, his scent familiar and grounding.
“Come on.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s late. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
Despite the storm still brewing in her chest, Aglaea feels her anger soften under his touch. Her exhaustion seeps through, heavy and irresistible.
Slowly, her eyelids grow heavy. Against her will, her body relaxes into him. Maybe he’s right… maybe I’m overthinking it…
Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and she drifts into sleep.
The next morning comes, but the conversation… never happens.
The days leading up to the wedding.
Anaxa keeps leaving the house under the guise of business meetings. Each time he leaves, a pit of unease twists in her stomach.
Why is he being so secretive? What is he hiding?
Unable to bear the anxiety, she contacts Cipher again, asking him to tail Anaxa.
Cipher’s updates are relentless. Every time Anaxa leaves, he’s spotted with the same green-haired woman—laughing, talking, sometimes lingering at her apartment. Aglaea feels her chest tighten with a mix of anger, betrayal, and disbelief.
By the day before the wedding, her patience snaps. She decides she can’t sit by any longer and wait for answers.
When Anaxa returns from yet another supposed “meeting”, she doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, grabs him by the shoulders, and shoves him against the wall. The impact makes his back hit the wall with a thud.
“W-what is the meaning of this?!” Anaxa stammers, eyes wide, hands raised instinctively.
Aglaea’s chest heaves, her hands trembling with anger. “I… I want to break up!”
Anaxa’s mouth opens, then closes, as if the words haven’t registered. “W-what?!”
Aglaea jabs a finger sharply into the center of his chest. “You’ve been spending so much time with that woman, lying to me about it, saying it’s for business, but you keep going to her house!”
“I-I can explain—”
“I don’t want your stupid explanations!” Aglaea snaps, taking a step back. Her chest heaves as tears sting her eyes. “You have one day to pack everything and move out!”
Before he can even respond, she turns and storms into her room. The door slams behind her with a deafening finality.
Anaxa remains frozen in the hallway. His hand rises to rub the back of his neck, guilt etched across his face. His chest tightens as he watches her retreat, the reality of the breakup sinking in.
Weeks after the breakup.
Aglaea barely leaves her room. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, but she avoids it, curling up in her blankets. Meals become sparse, and she only eats when Tribbie comes by to cook her oatmeal.
Tears often streak her cheeks as she lays in bed, hugging her pillow tightly. The emptiness in her chest feels endless. She sobs quietly at night, her body wracked with grief, feeling the weight of heartbreak pressing her down into the mattress.
Her phone sits untouched on the bedside table, the memories of Anaxa’s calls and texts lingering like ghosts she cannot chase away. The life they had planned—the wedding, the future—felt like a cruel mirage.
Each day blends into the next, a monotonous haze of sorrow and regret.
Tears stream down Aglaea’s cheeks, hot and relentless, as memories crash back like a tidal wave.
What am I doing? She thinks, clutching the envelope in trembling hands. I shouldn’t be crying. That was three years ago. I should’ve moved on. I should be happy with the life I have now…
But her chest tightens painfully, and a fresh sob escapes. So why… why am I crying over him?
Because deep down, she never really got over him. She still longs for his warmth, his embrace. She remembers the way his gaze lingered on her, soft and full of affection, and the ache in her heart grows sharper.
Aglaea stumbles to the bed and sinks onto it. With trembling hands, she opens the letter and reads it.
To my dearest Aglaea,
I am writing this letter just as you asked to break up with me. I know my behavior this past week has been awfully suspicious, and I never meant to make you think I was cheating on you. The reason I’ve been so secretive is because my sister just came back for the wedding. We were planning something to surprise you on our wedding day. That’s the “business” I was talking about.
If you find this letter, know that I am truly sorry for not telling you sooner. It could have avoided so many misunderstandings, but I fear it may be too late for that. Regardless, if you ever wish to get back together, you know where to find me.
Love,
Anaxa
Drip… drip… drip…
Tears fall onto the paper as Aglaea’s hands shake violently. Her breath comes in uneven, ragged gasps. She can hardly believe what she’s just read.
So… everything… everything was just a misunderstanding.
The truth crashes over her. Anaxa had never cheated on her. He had been planning a surprise with his sister all along. How could I have been so blind? She thinks, clutching the letter to her chest. They both have green hair… I should’ve connected the dots sooner.
Regret surges through her chest. She feels the sting of her rashness, the weight of her words, the finality of that night when she ended things without giving him a chance to explain.
If only I had found this letter sooner…
If only I hadn’t acted so recklessly that night…
If only I had trusted him…
And now… it’s too late, too late.
“Honey, are you ready? The moving truck is here.” A husky voice from downstairs breaks through her spiralling thoughts.
Aglaea blinks, snapping out of her daze. She wipes her tears with the back of her hand.
“Coming!”
Aglaea folds the letter carefully, placing it back into the envelope and sliding it into her bag.
This will be the only thing she takes with her into her new life. A fragile reminder of what could have been, a quiet monument to love lost.
The envelope feels heavy against her side as she stands, her chest tight, her mind spinning. She exhales, straightening her shoulders.
Goodbye, Anaxagoras. Goodbye to what we could have had.