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Aventurine woke up feeling blessed.
A pretty lady beside him, someone he loved, someone who was, for once, not a passing fling. Someone who stayed and adored him too.
Who was still asleep. Perfect. She looked beautiful asleep, and he knew she’d look even more perfect awake. Aventurine couldn’t wait to see her awake, glimpse her eyes.
Eyes. Yes. That was where it had all begun.
“Your eyes are pretty”, she had remarked when Madam Jade introduced them together in the office.
Aventurine had waited for the inevitable snide comment. Or maybe, if his luck followed him back from the casino, pity instead of mockery. Nothing of that sort came.
She had just kept staring at his eyes, waiting for a response, until Madam Jade’s polite cough had shaken him out of the wait.
“Thank you”, Aventurine had said with a slight smirk. Just confident enough to perhaps fool her.
Not lucky enough to fool Madam Jade though. Oh, well. Perhaps that had been too much to hope for.
“They still cannot compare to your radiance”, he had added. Because if he hadn’t fooled her, then that means she had noticed his eyes and knew his origins (despite her not mentioning it), knew his lucky streak, and probably realised that one sentence, one mention of his origin had shook him, which meant she could hold it over him, which meant danger.
Which meant that she was good enough for him to fall for.
Anyone who could ruin him was good enough to love.
The compliment lingered. It tasted like blood, tangy and sharp. An obvious invitation.
Later on, she would describe every date they had as special. She would gush over him, love him, and do it all sincerely, and Aventurine had eventually accepted that she did not seek to screw him over.
To him though, that meeting in an impersonal office with Madam Jade’s smirk and the thrumming of his heart would always be unique. Unique and perfect and special.
To him, she was special. And would always be.