"Meshani?"

"Hmm?"

"What is this?"

I turn my gaze to follow where he is pointing, though I already know what he is talking about. "I made a completely frivolous purchase today." We both look at the device: a wooden box, elaborately decorated, upon which sits a turntable, with a large fluted brass bell perched atop a single point of contact and a hand crank poking out of one side. Beside it are three large envelopes, each meticulously labeled to denote their contents. All of this shivers in the illumination shed by the single candle perched across the room on the writing desk. 

Tarriq gives me an indulgent smile as I fail to answer his question. "And you have every right to make an indulgent purchase, my love. But I am still curious as to what it is."

"What do you think it is?" I do not wish to give in to his curiosity too quickly, instead smiling like a sly cat.

He gives me a look that says I may be pushing the limits of his patience but he loves me anyway. "I think it is the reason you are wearing a suit, of all things." He turns his attention back to me and very gently tugs at the creased lapels. "Which, I might add, is very fetching on you. But what is it, my all?"

With a smile, I relent. "I will show you."

He follows me on silent feet as I cross the room to the device. Lifting the bell carefully, it pivots on a hinge to raise the needle away from the platter. I take up one of the envelopes and draw out a pressed disc, which is gently slotted onto a central pin to hold it on the platter. The crank I work until it starts to resist, as the seller instructed, then I flip a release that sets the platter in motion. Only then do I gently lower the bell back into place. A dial near the hinge allows me to slowly raise the volume until the soft sounds of Brahms begin to float in the air.

Turning back to my husband, I see surprise and delight upon his face. Wide eyed, he studies the device, and I watch as understanding dawns on him. "You purchased a gramophone!"

"It is not a genuine antique," I demur briefly, "but yes. I thought it would be a nice addition."

"Is this why Kellen told me he was staying with Laurel at the club and would see me at work tonight?" The accusation is a fond and teasing one.

"It might perhaps be the reason," I concede. 

He gives me a smile, and I am immediately glad of my purchase. This smile is rare; it is shy, like a young boy, and softens the angularity of his face like nothing else. It reminds me again of why I fell in love with him and I can feel my own heart pound with it. He takes my hands in his own and draws me close, clasping my right in his left while insisting the other grasp his narrow waist. His right hand clasps my shoulder.

And then we are off. I feel the gentle pressure of his hands as he directs my feet where to go. Step, two, three, in time to the slow waltz filling the air. I follow where he leads, as it has always been, as it shall always be. His steps are confident, well practiced. Mine are less so, but that is why he leads. The song fills my ears as his beauty fills my heart.

I drown in his eyes, unwilling to release the grip of his gaze, and feel pleasure at the privilege of it. The narrow band of violet that is his iris glimmers like amethyst in the candlelight at this close range. Pupils like black voids try to consume that color, but it holds on, a single breath it seems from oblivion. He would say it is a metaphor for the darkness that claws at his mind. But I see only a brave spark of color clinging to life.

And then his eyes slide shut, and his face draws even nearer to mine until our foreheads touch. My own eyes close as well, since there is little to focus on now. I feel the vibration of his humming through that point of contact. The sound resonates through his bones and sets his skin to buzzing. His pitch, as always, is perfect. Sometimes he carries the melody. Other times, his voice soars into breathtaking harmony. Idly, I wonder if his humming is merely noise or some kind of Denzani accompaniment. 

"Thank you." His words are so quiet, I almost feel as though I am imagining them.

"For what?"

"For this. For dancing with me. For loving me."

I smile. "I was going to thank you for indulging me in this."

"Indulging you?" Tarriq's voice carries curiosity and mirth, as though he cannot imagine why I would think such a thing.

"You dance so much for work. I was uncertain if you would want to do so at home, as well."

"For you, my all, I would do anything." There is such depth of passion to the words that I feel tears threaten to spill. "Meshani, you are everything to me. And this is no mere 'indulgence'. I dance because to do so is to create. It is an expression of who I am. To be able to share this with you is…" He runs out of words. 

I draw my hand from his waist and press it to his cheek. He turns his face to brush a kiss into my palm and I smile to know just how precious that contact is. How much I have had to work for it, to earn the trust of him to allow such physical intimacy. 

"You have gifted me with so many things." I make certain he can hear the depths of my feelings for him in each word.

"I give you my heart," he replies simply. "Over and over again, willingly. There is never a need for you to ask for it, as I leave it in your care. And you have always held it so carefully."

"Because it is a treasure without value," I reply. "And because you have mine as well."

We dance together for a long time. I know he is tired, having come from work to find this. But even when the song runs out, he continues to sing and make music for us. And I let him draw me across the floor in sweeping steps, slowly turning, nothing else in the world but the two of us. Because for him, the music never ends. It is a part of him. 

Perhaps I never quite realized just how much. But now that I understand, I treasure it. I marvel at it, that I am allowed to know one more intimate piece of him. Part of me is scolding, wondering why I did not understand this sooner. But I cannot remain upset, not with his arms about me. Not when I am surrounded by his adoration.

Tarriq might say I dance here with the devil. But I see no such thing, only the man I love. And I spend the time falling in love with him anew, over and over again, because he is everything to me.

"I love you, Tarriq."