DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.
It is said that one gives their love a gift made of paper on their first anniversary. Manolo Sanchez gave his wife a tradition.
Morning came early that day. The sun slowly peered over the hills, making the buildings of San Angel sparkle in the light, and it woke Maria as it streamed through the open curtains of her bedroom. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly, grimacing as her sight adjusted. "Manolo, did you open those…?"
There was no answer from the other side of the bed, nor any sound at all. Turning over to see what was wrong, Maria found that her husband had gone.
"Manolo?" she called out as she sat up, her tone laced with instinctive worry. He often woke before her, but never without a light kiss or touch to let her know he was leaving. Where could he need to be so early?
A faint noise from outside caught her attention. The doors to the balcony stood open, and through them drifted the sound of guitar strings being idly plucked. On the balcony tiles lay a single lit candle and a red rose.
Maria got out of bed, sliding into her slippers and pulling on her robe as she walked to the balcony. The playing persisted, but Manolo was nowhere to be seen when she peered outside. "Hello?"
The strumming abruptly ceased, and for a moment, Maria thought she had been mistaken. She was turning around to go back inside when it began again. It was a proper tune now, quiet and lilting and gentle. Maria had only heard it once before, yet it caused a wave of memories to blossom in her mind. She froze, transfixed.
That was when he began to sing. "I love you too much, to live without you loving me back…"
She laughed in disbelief, her hands covering her mouth as she looked up and down the street to make sure it was empty - there would be no sharing this moment, she would see to that.
Manolo appeared after a few seconds, walking out from beneath the balcony. He grinned up at her as he sang, swaying in time with his melody. She leaned on the railing and rested her chin on her hand, her eyes drifting halfway shut as she let the music and the sight of him overtake her senses.
It seemed to last forever and yet no time at all. When he finished, he bowed to her. "Have I pleased you, Señorita Posada?"
Maria laughed and shook her head in mock exasperation. "Come inside. I'll meet you downstairs." She ran from the bedroom and down the stairs, nearly tripping on the hem of her robe as she went.
Manolo was already waiting for her in the parlor when she arrived. He stood and approached her, preparing to speak, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss before he could say a word. He didn't mind, resting his hands on her waist to pull her closer and lift her off her feet.
"You liked it?" he asked when they finally pulled apart.
"Of course." She stroked his face. "Buenos dias."
He smiled, stifling a small yawn as he did so.
"Are you tired?"
"Just a little. I was up practicing."
Maria smirked. "Come back to bed, then."
That was where they spent the rest of the morning. They lazily indulged in one another, and then they lay in each others arms, relishing the sensation of tangled limbs and mingling breaths. Only when Chuy came scratching at the bedroom door did they think to move.
Before he rose, Manolo paused and kissed the side of Maria's head. "Feliz aniversario, mi amor."
Sometimes they returned to bed once more on those November mornings in the years that followed. Other times they went to the roof and watched the sunrise, or ate the breakfast their children made for them, or put on some records and danced. What never changed was the way he woke her with his music, or the love in his face and voice as he sang.
And for that, Maria was grateful.