2
Rick returned, looking weary, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
He approached me, his face devoid of guilt or remorse. “Daisy, I brought you your favorite lisianthus.”
Lisianthus, symbolizing unwavering love, felt like a cruel joke in Rick’s hands.
I took the flowers.
Thinking I’d calmed down, he began his explanation. “Calista… she has bone cancer. Her only wish is to bond with me. We’ve known each other since childhood. I couldn’t let her wish go unfulfilled, so I’m marrying her in three days.”
“You’re always so understanding, you’ll understand, right?”
His tone wasn’t an explanation; it was a notification.
Bonding with Calista in three days?
Conveniently, that’s also when I’m leaving.
I nodded silently.
Rick used to loathe my spoiled-brat tendencies, saying I sought constant reassurance, endlessly asking if he loved me.
I’d changed; I learned patience.
My calm demeanor, my lack of questioning, surprised him.
He gave me a curious look.
“I’m moving in with Calista tomorrow. You’ll be alone for a few months. I’m sorry about that.”
“Calista’s sick. She needs me more than you do right now.”
I smiled, setting down the flowers.
Seeing my lack of protest, he leaned in to touch my face.
I subtly avoided him.
A bright lipstick stain marred his collar; Calista’s pheromones, overpowering his cologne, made my stomach churn.
Rebuffed, Rick’s temper flared.
Without another word, he stormed out.
I tossed the flowers and cake into the trash and began packing my things.
No flowers, no Rick, no more lingering attachment to this apartment I’d lived in for six years.
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