Authenticity- a state of being I'm not used to in the slightest. I've never had the luxury of being "authentic" or "genuine" before….

I don't even know what's true anymore and what's play-acting. I know I'm not really married, that all of this is fake and will end sooner than later.

Still, I feel as if I'm learning new things about myself every day. I'm not trying to be authentic; I don't want to be authentic! But I can't help it. Something is happening to me- I'm becoming more "me" than I've ever been, than I ever thought possible. I try hard not to relax; not to be my real, authentic self…..

Then I look at you.

"I'm fine with getting a new dress, but I feel bad making you spend so much money on it," Loid and I were heading towards the fanciest- and most expensive- bouquet in the city. Loid, who was holding my hand while guiding me along, gave it a squeeze. "We've been over this. I'll not have my wife show up to the interview in anything but the best. Don't worry about the cost, Mrs. Forger; that's my concern, not yours." "If you insist….." I was still hesitant. Yes, I agree I need a special dress for the occasion, but something this pricy? Maybe I'm misunderstanding the scenario though and we're expected to come wearing the finest attire. I don't know; this is all so new to me still. But my husband gave my hand yet another squeeze and glanced back to me over his shoulder. "I do," he said with finality.

I'm not sure why, but I got the distinct impression in that moment that he might have been using the interview as an excuse to spoil me. Heh, he wasn't the kind of person to lavish me out of the blue with nice things, so maybe he saw an opportunity here….. I suppressed a wide smile as we rounded the corner and made our way to the department store.

The ladies' section was on the fifth floor. There was a couple of middle-aged ladies working there, both eager to help us. We explained what we wanted and they rushed off to get some dresses. Once four or five dresses were gathered, we were swiftly brought into the back dressing room. Loid double-checked to ensure we were the only ones there like the gentleman he was. He sat down in a very fancy-looking chair in front of the row of massive mirrors while I entered one of the rooms to change.

Dress after dress was tried on for size. Loid and the ladies gave their opinion on each, only unanimously greeting at the sixth dress. It was a bit too big for me, so the ladies left to find me a new size and some matching shoes. In the room I struggled to get the dress unzipped, unable to reach the zipper myself. Still reaching for it, I called out from inside. "Can someone come help me with this?" I wasn't sure if the ladies had returned yet or not.

There was a moment of quiet before I heard Loid call out: "she needs assistance!" I could barely hear it but one of the women hollered back asking if he could do it since they were preoccupied at the moment. I blushed, realizing what this meant, and before I could say anything else the curtain was slowly, almost painfully drawn back. There stood a very tense and uncomfortable Loid, unwilling to meet my frazzled and alarmed stare.

"H-here," he motioned for me to turn around, still not looking in my direction. I timidly did as instructed, spinning around and moving my hair out of the way. My husband's hands were trembling so hard I could feel them shake on my back. He pulled the zipper down halfway, where I was able to finally reach it. Blushing up a storm, I gradually let my hair down and turned back around. Loid was beet red now too, appearing as if he didn't know what to say or do next. "T-Thank you," I half-whispered there in my undone dress. His hand rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. Then he spun around to leave and closed went the curtain.

I finally came out in the right-sized dress this time, with everyone "oooooohing" and "aweeeeing". The ladies had sparkles in their eyes, their hands clasped together. "Oh, miss! You look absolutely gorgeous!" "You'll turn heads everywhere you go," they chimed. Even Loid… It's so hard to describe the look in his face just then, his exact expression… My lips parted a sliver as I twirled towards my husband. "W-What do you think, Loid?" It felt almost wrong to ask. Selfish….. He remained stationary, his own mouth slightly ajar. When nothing came out, both of the women gazed at him. "Doesn't your wife look stunning?" One inquired suggestively; I think she knew what I wanted to hear. Loid's lips sputtered a tad before he managed to say anything.

When he did eventually speak, he cleared his throat, bringing his closed fist up to his mouth and shutting his eyes. His cheeks were pink under his eyes again; something the ladies noticed and made them smile. "I-It'll do. You'd better get changed though before you catch a cold….. S-Since you're not wearing a shawl, I mean!" He was very quick to add on. The women giggled and I blushed bashfully. My darling husband….. He can be so cute and charming at the same time.

I went in to get changed for the last time and the ladies left once more to find a proper shawl, heh, since that's so important. I was still grinning to myself about it when I was out trying on the shoes they'd brought. As I did so in front of the mirror for reference, Loid watched from casually from the chair he'd been sitting in since we got here. His chin was resting on his palm, with his fingers rubbing across under his bottom lip. He wasn't smiling per se, but observing my every move with the upmost intensity. This continued as one of the ladies brought even more shoes for me to try on. After looking at the shoe boxes, I grinned up at my husband.

"I'm not a very fashionable person, I guess. I don't know what goes well with this dress," I admitted. Loid leaned back in his seat, seemingly unaffected. "They all look nice. Just pick the pair which feel right." "You sure? They're pretty pricey," my eyes blinked his way. He shot me a look, though not as harsh as you'd imagine. "What did I say earlier? You let me worry about that. I'll take care of that, Mrs. Forger. I'll take care of you….."

I froze, gazing over to him yet again; this time more stunned. I don't think he meant to say that last part, not aloud anyway. His startled expression said it all, as his eyes widened a little. We beheld one another for a long minute, not saying anything. What was there to say? When I did open my mouth again, it was dry as cotton- breathless, once more…. I'm not sure why; he's said before that he'll take care of me. It wasn't what he said that was remarkable but rather…. how he said it. He spoke with such sincerity and genuineness just then; like the way I imagine a smile would sound, silly as that is. He's happy, it was beginning to dawn on me; he was truly, perfectly happy a second ago. He wants to look after me….. Not because it's his duty as my husband, but because he actually wants to. He's happy….. This precious, precious man is happy.

We both flinched in unison, as if we caught ourselves just in time; we'd been ogling for much too long. Our faces tore off each other, and I began fumbling with the shoes to give myself something to do. Loid looked away, only returning his gaze to me once I was busy. He started watching me collect the scattered boxes of shoes to still try on. Holding them straight was a challenge since my arms were so shaky and my heart was beating so fast, it was almost clouding my vision. "I-I'll go put these on." My husband was more relaxed now, eying me intently. His lips opened ever so slightly, tenderly…..

"Mrs. Forger." "Yes?" "Stay right there….. where I can see you," his tone was commanding yet begging, pleading at the same time. It was so shocking, so enchanting, so….. heavenly, that I lost my breath for a moment. It left me gasping, and I stood there with my cheeks burning every shade of red imaginable. Our eyes lingered onto each other for felt like eternity and an instant. I could have watched him forever….. My hand rose up to rest over my fluttering heart. I don't think I've ever smiled so quickly, so organically before. My head lowered a tad. "Yes."

If being dishonest is my natural state and what I'm used to… If I want to avoid genuine emotion as much as possible… Then why do I find every single excuse to look at you?