Chapter 2
Chapter 2
He was like a flower blossoming on the edge of a cliff, untouched by the dust.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my eyes cast down, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean to bother you…”
“Today…” he started, but then he let the sentence trail off.
I knew what he wanted to say. I was supposed to be celebrating Miles‘ birthday, but not showing up there with Rowan. That thought snapped me back to the present.
I shoved the bouquet into his arms and said hurriedly, “Happy Birthday.”
A long silence followed.
I glanced at him, only to find him staring at the flowers, not looking very pleased.
After a while, he let out a bitter chuckle. “Sonia, he didn’t want these, did he?”
“What?”
His mood was off, and my eyes fell on the bouquet, a sinking feeling in my chest.
Oh no. I had given Rowan ice–blue roses, meaning “I give you the stars and the sea,” Miles‘ favorite, associated with stars and oceans.
Waking up with scrambled memories, I had been so focused on finding Rowan that I overlooked these details.
I apologized, “I’m sorry. 1-”
“Thank you for the birthday gift,” Rowan said stiffly, “It’s getting late. Let the driver take you home.”
He turned to leave.
Quickly, I grabbed the hem of his jacket. “Wait!”
Rowan hadn’t expected that, and when he stopped, I stumbled, crashing into his back. His tailored suit had a splash of colorful flowers on it.
Rowan turned, looking down at my hand, silent for a long time.
Stubbornly, I said, “Rowan, I’m not going home.”
His expression was somber. “Sonia, how are you planning to torment me this time?”
That was a difficult question to answer. In my memory, Rowan and I had just gotten married, and we were in
the middle of a fight.
I was 23, and he was 28. The arguments were mostly one–sided, with me throwing hurtful words his way, even choosing gifts that would cut deep. I was like the boy who cried wolf. After a while, he stopped believing me.
Thinking back on how I’d cleared up misunderstandings in the past, I decided to go with a direct approach. I was ready to tackle Rowan head–on.
Despite his distant demeanor, Rowan was surprisingly easy to appease. But at the moment, that might not work. Rowan had endured so much pain and misunderstanding, and I wanted to make amends.
Thinking it over, I said, “How about I take you out for dinner?”
Rowan lowered his gaze, replying coldly. “There’s no need. I have work tonight.”
“Then let’s order takeout!” I shamelessly followed him, “How about some spaghetti?”
Rowan didn’t respond, not even acknowledging my presence.
He still clutched the bouquet tightly. As we passed a trash can, I thought he’d toss it in without a second thought, but he didn’t.
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19.29
I trailed him to his office, which was emptier than before. A cold, untouched box of takeout sat on his desk.
Was this how he planned to spend his night? A wave of sadness washed over me as I grabbed my phone and ordered him some spaghetti with low salt and no onions.
I added tomato beef stew and a few mild vegetable sides.
In the past, Rowan always ordered spicy and oily food to accommodate my taste, but it wasn’t until later that I realized his stomach couldn’t handle it.
After placing the order, I sat down on the couch, unsure of what to say next. It felt like anything I could say would be awkward.
Rowan was unwrapping the flowers, planning to put them in a vase.
The ice–blue roses stung my eyes. Without thinking, I snatched them away and tossed them in the trash.
He looked at me, surprised, as blood welled up from a pricked thumb, and sighed wearily, “Sonia, have you had enough?”
“No.” I suppressed my frustration, annoyed at his resilience and lack of anger. “You don’t want them. I’ll get you something else.”
Rowan dabbed at his wound with a tissue, his eyes cast downward in resignation. “Just forget it,” he muttered.
Ignoring him, I grabbed the trash, leaving a quick “Wait here” before rushing out.
The summer evening was lined with street vendors selling flowers. Though not as extravagant as those in upscale shops, they were charming. I scoured several stalls, buying all the red roses I could find and wrapping them in simple paper.
As I finished, the takeout arrived, and I lugged everything back upstairs.
The 19th floor was even quieter than before. The few employees working late had left. Only Rowan’s office had a small light on.
I tiptoed in.
He stood by the window with his back to me, looking utterly forlorn. He reminded me of a little puppy left all alone.
The door banged as I struggled with the heavy packages. Rowan stiffened, turning around to see me nearly buried under everything.
“Hey, don’t just stand there. Help me out!” I panted.
He seemed surprised I had returned but quickly moved to take the flowers and food, slipping an arm to lead me to the couch.
Catching my breath, I wiped the sweat from my brow and grinned, “These are for you. I bought every rose on
the street.”
Rowan’s handsome face was momentarily blank. Great, he wasn’t used to this kinder version of me. Did he need me to yell at him to feel at ease?
When he turned back to his cold takeout, I feigned a groan of frustration.
Rowan’s eyes flicked to me, a hint of worry passing through them.
I leaned back on the couch, chin raised, feigning impatience, “Can’t you eat something warm? Watching you with that takeout irritates me.”
Rowan said nothing in response.
For the next half hour, my complaints echoed through the office.
“Do you even know how to eat?*
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Chapter 2
“Can’t you see that big piece of beef?”
“Not eating your veggies? Are you a picky eater at your age?”
“Slurp the spaghetti. I didn’t buy it just for show!”
Thanks to my relentless nagging, he finished the spaghetti. To make sure he had enough to eat, I got him two small rolls and handed him my dessert, a honey cake.
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