”What took you so long?" I ask, my face betraying a hint of bitterness as I struggle to maintain my composure. I had carefully prepared a romantic candlelit dinner, with rose petals scattered across the floor, leading to the kitchen.

I stand there, my heart pounding and hands trembling, feeling the weight of your silence. A nervous smile flickers on my lips, but inside, doubt gnaws at me. I search your face for some sign of appreciation, but when you don’t respond immediately, insecurity floods in. ”Did you even notice the effort I put in?" I ask again, my temper a little sharper this time, my mind racing. Is this not enough? Am I not enough?