I'm writing this chapter in May, very well in advance, so go me for being proactive. But let's take a minute to acknowledge that this is the four year anniversary of this story.

Photo #123: Four Years

Eadlyn never saw the point of the anniversary tradition where each year had a corresponding gem, material, flower, etc. She isn't sure about the history or maybe even the etymology but it definitely had something to do with capitalism and consumerism. She's only saying that because in the next photo, she sees her parents with many random items at the forefront.

The presents seem random, at first glance, which is why she thinks her parents are doing that tradition. Aside from the items, her parents are in front of a mirror. Her mother looks like she's pretending to be a model and her father stands behind her, laughing with the camera.

Is this photo even their anniversary? It could be from yesterday and she just wouldn't know.

Again, this is all her assumption. For most of these photos, she can only guess since she doesn't have much to work with.

-o-

Maxon and America weren't sure what to do for their fourth wedding anniversary. What more could they give each other as gifts? They already had everything: their kids, their families, and each other. But for the sake of doing something fun for their big day, they decided this.

According to their research, the fourth wedding anniversary is said to be the year of linen, silk, and fruits. The gem associated is blue topaz and the flowers are geraniums and hydrangeas.

Maxon enters one of the libraries where an attendant told him America was. He saw her this morning and at breakfast, wished each other happy anniversary with embraces, and checked on their kids. Once they were attended and put down for their naps, they finally had at least twenty minutes to celebrate with each other. Maxon puts his gifts down on a side table as he approaches America. He sees her sitting at a vanity in the corner (this library was once partially a powder room but they took the walls down and kept the mirror for design purposes), staring at her reflection. Maxon stops behind her chair, holding its frame as he kisses the top of her head.

Kissing her is great but it doesn't feel as good as him saying he loves her.

"Looking good, Schreave," America says, keeping her eyes on the mirror.

Maxon laughs a little behind his smile. "We've been married for four years. Why are you calling me by my last name?"

America turns around, twisting her body to look up at him. "I was talking to myself."

America smiles proudly as she turns back around, looking at her reflection. She props an elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand and tilts her chin up a little. While angled, she alters her expression from smiling with teeth, smiling with only lips, and an exaggerated kiss. When she sees Maxon raise his camera, America shoots a shoulder forward at the last second as she opens her mouth wide to fake a gasp. The camera clicks as Maxon laughs, making America laugh as well.

"That is my beautiful Mrs. Schreave," Maxon mutters, calming down. He puts the camera down on "Four years of looking at your beautiful face as Mrs. Schreave."

"I got you this."

America reaches behind her and takes out a small figurine. Maxon gently holds it in his hands and twists it around to look at it. The figurine is made of porcelain but certain aspects of it are fabric. There are four people standing together. A mother, a father, and two kids, a boy and a girl, by their sides. The parents are looking at each other while the kids are looking up at the parents. While the bodies and structure are porcelain, the outfits are made of linen.

It's their family. It almost made him cry seeing how cute and genuine this is. He knows that anything is beyond good if it makes him laugh or cry. Or both.

"I made it myself," America says boastfully. She knows that he knows she didn't.

"Well, you'll have to add to this when we have more kids," Maxon responds, holding it close to his heart.

"It's a work in progress."

"The figurine or the kids?"

America is about to respond but bites her tongue. "Both."

Maxon grins. "Better get working on this figurine."

America lightly smacks his arm. "Maxon."

"Kidding, dear, sort of." He leans down and kisses her cheek.

Maxon turns around and picks up a bouquet of flowers for it. America lights up as she takes them by the stems, peering over the small dome of petals to get the mix of scents and colours. It's a mix of pink and purple hydrangeas with orange and yellow geraniums.

"I made it myself," Maxon says, mimicking her gift announcement for him.

"Did you?" America asks, cocking a brow as she glances at the flowers.

"It's homemade in the sense that I made it at home."

"You didn't make these flowers."

"I hired the gardeners and landscapers."

"So?"

"And it grew in my soil."

"I never thought you'd take ownership of dirt."

"Soil."

America taps his nose with the bouquet. "Soil."

She smiles as she looks at the flowers and Maxon sighs happily. He likes it when she smiles but loves it when he's the reason.

"Thank you, Maxon," America says smiling.

"I asked the chef to make strawberry tarts downstairs," Maxon responds.

America's face lights up brighter than ever. "Maxon Schreave, I love you."

"America Schreave, I know you love those tarts more."

America's face puckers up as she holds the flowers to her heart. "Maxon Schreave, four years and you're still making my heart jump."

I know I haven't written as many chapters for this story as I once did, but thanks to the people who are still reading. Or even if you just found this story, thank you too. I'm not giving up on this story yet but maybe we'll get four more years in.

(Also, I have a Selection one-shot planned and a sneak peak counterpart chapter for this story but I promised myself that I wouldn't publish it until this story becomes my most read work so, just letting you know).