Bonus content, Cancelled with you

(Illustration: Jessica Oliveira)

London, October 2025

Jasmine

"So is that how you feel?"

Dua Lipa’s voice echoes loudly through the spacious room, and I stop humming as I look at Handel. We’re at the office Halloween party, sitting in the back of the room because my feet are tired.

Which is only natural, considering I’m six months pregnant.

Despite Handel’s protests about attending the event, this year would be the first time I’d be there as a partner, so I decided to drop by for a couple of hours.

My husband (the same one who didn’t want to be here) had the brilliant idea of coming dressed as a cactus. He is funny, isn't he?

As for me, guess what? I’m wearing a peacock costume, of course. We’ve turned into a really cheesy couple. I blame love for that.

“How do I feel?” I ask, confused.

He nudges me with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah. Is that how you feel every time you prick someone?”

“Wow, that’s funny.” I roll my eyes. “Ha ha.”

“Oh, I deserve at least a little smile, don’t I?”

He has a cactus flower on top of his head, and his forehead is slightly sweaty from the costume’s heavy fabric. His hand wraps around my waist, and the shade of green contrasts with the blue of my outfit.

"You’re not going to turn on the charm on me now, Rupert. I know you want to leave, and we have to stay here for at least another hour."

The seductive expression fades, and he lets his shoulders slump.

"This party sucks, Jas."

"I know, darling, but what can I do? Go dance a little to take your mind off it."

“Without you? No way.” Handel sits down next to me and crosses his arms. “How boring. The things I do for my wife…”

“Handel, we need to look on the bright side of this event. Why don’t you have some champagne?”

“No thanks.”

“How about a sweet?” I point to the dessert table.

"No thanks."

My goodness, what a difficult man. He’s usually grumpy at formal events, but this time he’s really outdoing himself.

I glance to the side and gaze at his serious profile.

Geez, Handel really is a handsome man. He’s gotten more muscular over the last few months, since he started working out hard at the gym, arguing that he’ll have a daughter to raise and needs to take care of his health.

He puts on his little act (you know how it is) but I’m not complaining about his broad, hairy chest.

“How about massaging my feet a bit?” I suggest, since I wouldn’t mind getting a massage while we’re sitting here doing nothing. “I’m the peacock tonight, but it’s your beak that’s huge.”

Handel sighs and pats his thigh, so I can stretch out my legs and rest them there. He carefully removes my sandals and sets them on the floor, then begins massaging my feet.

I close my eyes and let out a little moan of pleasure.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

“You shouldn’t overdo it, woman…” He’s focused on the task at hand.

“I’m not overdoing it. It’s just that I worked all day today, had nonstop meetings, and I’m a little more tired than usual.”

Which is true. Ever since I became a partner, my workload has increased, and there are days when I barely notice the time passing. Handel continues moving his skilled fingers and lifts his face toward me, studying me.

“You’re actually a pretty charming peacock,” he teases me.

I agree with him. I like blue, and the little artificial feathers on the costume give me a unique charm.

“When Gwen is born, we’ll buy her a little peacock outfit.” I gently stroke my belly.

“And a cactus one! I suspect the princess will take after her mother’s temperament.”

I want to ask how he can be so sure, but I hope Handel is right.

I think it’ll be easier to deal with two of me than with two of him.

Oh, heavens.

“Make a little pressure to the heel,” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

Handel obeys and suggests:

“I have a proposal for you.”

“Go ahead.”

“We’ll stay another ten minutes and then leave without saying goodbye to anyone. When we get home, I’ll run you a bath, with bath salts and everything.”

Hmm, that’s an interesting proposal, especially now that I’m feeling the day’s fatigue in my shoulders and lower back.

“Go on.”

“You take your relaxing bath, and I’ll cook dinner for us. And after that, I’ll let you choose.”

“Choose what?”

He raises an eyebrow, and that crooked smile appears again.

"Trick or treat, Jasmine?"

My lips curve uncontrollably, and I know I’ve just lost the game.

"Okay, darling cactus. You win."

And when his eyes sparkle and my heart leaps in my chest, I don’t need to answer the question.

Tricks it is.