Chapter 3
Once my spirits recovered, I began searching for work in town. Sitting in a rocking chair under the sun every day had turned laziness into habit. I needed purpose—something to anchor me back into life.
"Dorothy, are you looking for a job right now?" Nathaly asked.
I nodded. "I can't stay idle anymore."
"Then go ask Tristan," she said, winking.
I laughed at her exaggerated expression. "Why are you making that face?"
"Dorothy, if I weren't running a barbecue joint, I'd totally have you work with me. But our place stays open late, and with your healthy lifestyle, I doubt you'd survive those hours. But Tristan's flower shop is a whole different story," Nathaly said.
Nathaly's animated expression was just too funny. I raised an eyebrow. "How's that different?"
"He's a guy, so all the heavy lifting is on him. He wouldn't expect a woman to do that. Plus, the flower shop keeps decent hours, way more in line with your routine.
"And you know your way around flowers, so it's basically the perfect match for you. Seriously, what could be better?" Nathaly said.
"Makes sense," I nodded, but hesitated. "But what if he's not hiring?"
"Trust me, he is. We're all neighbors here, and since you're new, it's only fair he gives you a hand," Nathaly said.
"Alright, I'll think it over when I get home," I said.
"Stop overthinking! Just go for it," Nathaly urged.
But before I could go find Tristan, he came looking for me.
Maybe he'd just finished some heavy lifting. While everyone else was bundled up in thick coats, he was rocking a black tank top.
Big drops of sweat rolled down his sharp jawline and landed on his collarbone. His breath came out in white puffs, and even his strong body looked like it was giving off steam.
Damn, this guy was in great shape.
"Nathaly said you're looking for work," he said. "Come help me at the shop. Just watch the place when I'm out and handle the register sometimes."
Was it really that easy?
"So, how much do you pay?" I asked.
Tristan flashed a two with his fingers.
I stared at him, wide-eyed. "Two hundred? That's it? That's kinda low."
"Two thousand," Tristan replied.
I was even more stunned. "Whoa, really? That much? You don't have to feel sorry for me just because of my past."
Tristan replied, "I'm not pitying you."
He suddenly turned his head away, refusing to meet my eyes. A suspicious blush spread across his tanned skin as he muttered, "You deserve it."
It was like the whole world suddenly turned into a rom-com set.
I wasn't some naive girl anymore. I could tell what Tristan was thinking, more or less.
He realized he might've said too much. "I just..."
"Tristan, thank you, but I need to sort out my own mess before I can even think about something like that. Sorry," I said.
"No, I..." He lowered his head, mumbling, "Sorry, Dorothy. I went too far."
"But I'd still love to help out at the shop," I said.
Tristan looked up at me, his eyes practically sparkling. "But I really can't accept that much pay. I'd feel bad."
"Whatever works for you. I'm just happy you're willing to help," Tristan replied.
Looking at Tristan's silly smile and remembering Nathaly's cheerful energy, it hit me that ever since I walked away from Harry, it was like the rain in my life just stopped. Everything had been sunny ever since.
Two months later, Harry realized he was still blocked on my phone, and he started getting restless.
He went back to our old place. He hadn't been there in forever. But the moment he opened the door, he just stood there, stunned, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Harry stepped inside, the musty, abandoned smell hit him right away. Everything was buried under a thick layer of dust. It was screaming at him: I was long gone.
Harry stared at the place that felt both strange and familiar, and suddenly, every memory with Dorothy became crystal clear. His voice suddenly rang in his ears.
"Dorothy, we finally have a home of our own!"
"Dorothy, we'll be together forever. I promise I'll give you a better life."
He saw it all, two younger versions of himself and Dorothy, right there before his eyes.
They were smiling sweetly, wrapped up in a close embrace, and he could hear himself making those promises to Dorothy, every word ringing out with conviction.
A sharp ache clenched Harry's chest. He had broken every promise. 'What the hell have I been doing all these years?' he asked himself bitterly.
He continued walking, passing straight through the phantom of his former self, while those once-tender memories carved themselves deeper into his mind, each one accusing him of the man he had become.
He remembered how the living room had once been filled with photographs, him and Dorothy everywhere, their wedding portraits proudly displayed. Now, the walls were completely bare.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Then, as if struck by sudden realization, he spun around and hurried toward the master bedroom.
'The photos have to be in the master bedroom. They just have to be,' he thought. 'I know Dorothy. This is exactly what she'd do. I was barely ever home, and she missed me so much, she probably moved all our pictures in here, just to feel closer to me.'