In Honour of Christmas...

I love Christmas - perhaps equally, if not just a little bit more than my birthday; it is the one time of the year I look forward to, secretly singing along to the good ol' Christmas Carols, cheesy or not; everything around me are... blitzing - houses are alight with running lights, trees are decorated with all kinds of sparkly and pretty baubles and hanging ornaments; now if only there are snow in this part of the world at this time of the year, I would have branded every Christmas a perfect one, but eh... you can't have everything.

To me, Christmas symbolises harmony. No matter how rotten your year has been, no matter how much you've struggled, trying to balance work, relationship, family, social life, etc., at Christmas, you forget all that and focus on the one thing that's important in your life - those who are closest and dearest to you. Christmas is like a closing gate to the year that's been, a promise of better things to come, a reminder that there is peace in this crazy, hectic world we live in, a redemption of the wrongs you've made.

In honour of Christmas, I've written several Christmas passages throughout the 'Michael and Lizzy' saga, and this is one of them...

Still half-asleep, Lizzy rolls over, sitting up as her hand lightly brushes the crumpled sheet, blinking her eyes a few times to see the thick quilt on the spot beside her has been flung back and the person she had gone to bed with the night before is gone.

She rubs her eyes at the same time the door to the bedroom opens, her lips twitching as she sees Michael slowly approaching; his uncombed hair sticking out every which way and one hand is concealed behind the fold of his thick robe.

“Merry Christmas,” he greets, Lizzy slumping towards him as he puts all his weight on her side of the bed. Cupping her chin with his thumb and index finger, he tilts her head up and kisses her.

She breaks away to find a small square silver box balancing awkwardly on her lap, on top of the doona. Gently untying the organza white ribbon neatly wrapped around it, she opens the lid, jamming her fingers between the narrow gaps inside to fish out a black box.

“Oh, my God,” she exclaims, gasping as she opens the lid. “Michael…” Lizzy stares at him, speechless; inside, circled around a snug, dark navy velvet cushion, is a white gold, 3.13 carat Harry Winston Avenue mini watch; the countless diamond gems surrounding the clock and the chain perimeter glimmering against the shaft of morning sunlight penetrating through the bedroom window.

“There’s an engraving at the back,” Michael instructs further. Carefully, she peels the cushion from the confine of the box, peering over the inside of the watch.

With love, always. From Michael.

His grin freezes somewhat as Lizzy looks up, staring at him solemnly and somewhat askance.

“You don’t like it?” he asks uncertainly, knitting his brows close together; to his recollection, Lizzy has never been fuzzy on the gifts he has given her.

“I love it,” she replies quickly, weighing the watch on her palm, trying very hard not to think about the price tag. “It’s just…” She looks up again, meeting Michael’s eyes. “You know I really don’t need…”

“I know you don’t need a new watch,” Michael interrupts, putting a slight emphasis on the word need, “but… this is our first Christmas together. It’s a partner’s prerogative to spoil his fiancée, no?” he asks, his brow shooting up mischievously.