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“Happy Valentine’s Day, oh wife of mine!” Gojo burst into her chambers, flourishing a ghastly large bouquet. “I come bearing presents!”
It had required a month of his maddening disregard of her any desire, especially related to her wont for privacy, before she gave up shouting at him. Now, five months into their marriage contract, Utahime merely rolled her eyes so hard it could be sensed throughout the manor.
She fought the urge to throw something at him when she perceived her so-called gift. “Poison ivy? Oh, how original, my Lord.”
“My apologies, darling.” The leaflets swept dangerously close to her face as he twisted into an exaggerated bow. “I wasn’t aware you celebrated such a conventional and plebeian holiday until this morning.”
“And how, pray tell, did I celebrate?” In a nimble and refined maneuver, she slid out from between Gojo and her position at her dressing stand.
Not a day went by without her rueing the fact that this infuriating man had persuaded her into agreeing to be betrothed to him.
After her failed attempts to scare him off with a mildly poisoned missive and laced tea, he had spouted some poppycock about a beneficial union that would appease both their families.
“Why I heard my breakfast was made especially by you.”
The way his blue eyes glinted and his lip curved into a smirk as understanding dawned on her was much too familiar. And it irked her endlessly when he bested her.
His expression morphed to one of seemingly genuine hurt. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t tell me that the lovely date and fig waffles you baked me this morning were intentional!”
Her beloved husband knew as well as she did that it was fully intentional. Gojo was allergic to figs and dates. Not deathly allergic, of course. She wasn’t so cruel as to murder him. It was a harmless ruse. Utahime simply wanted a few days where his annoyingly handsome face was engorged and covered in hives.
During the months leading up to and following their marriage, the two of them had engaged in a rivalry of sorts. Mostly minor yet exceedingly inconvenient ruses and schemes. Each scraping for the upper hand.
“Was there a fault in the waffles?” All too easily, she matched his pained expression. “Oh, dear, I never intended to trouble you!”
Secretly, she delighted. He may have not ended up eating those waffles, but his poison ivy bouquet was a parlor trick at best. There was not a chance in hell she was touching that.
Except, the muscle in his jaw didn’t tic how did whenever she outdid him. Rather, he flashed his teeth with a look of satisfaction as he eyed her bosom. “It was no trouble at all, my Lady.”
When she followed his gaze, her sights arrested on the lone leaflet stuck to her exposed chest.
“Argh! Gojo! You absolute blight on humanity!” She lunged for him, but he lithely stepped back towards the doorway. Frustration ate at her as she screamed, “Get out. Get out! GET OUT!”
“Assuredly, darling, I wouldn’t want to impose when you’re in such a blistered mood.” He tossed the bouquet onto her bed, edging closer to the exit. “It seems this paltry Valentine’s will indeed be a happy one for me.”
Gojo dared to wink at her before slipping away with a quick bow. Once she calmed down, Utahime had a maid send up the manor doctor. And while he applied a soothing balm to her blistered, red skin she was already devising a plan to return the favor. Her Valentine’s had woefully turned quite sour.