Chapter 1
My boyfriend, Johnny Goodman, never let me sit in the front seat. Every time we went out, it felt like I was tagging along.
"Jasmine's off work. I'll pick her up. It's not far anyway," he said.
Before I could say anything, he'd steered the car straight toward Jasmine's office building.
My best friend, Jasmine Howell， quickly hopped into the front seat, turned down the AC, and casually draped Johnny's jacket over her legs.
The whole way, they bantered about the GPS, debating which route would avoid the traffic.
I sat in the back seat, hugging the bouquet I'd bought.
Even though I got carsick, Johnny would say the front seat had a better view, and since Jasmine was tired from working late, she deserved it more.
When we pulled into the mall's parking garage, they both got out first to put our name down for a table.
I shut the car door and hurried after them.
Jasmine was clinging to Johnny's sleeve, acting all cute.
There was no wait for a two-person table, but we'd have to wait an hour for a three-person one.
When Jasmine saw me, she quickly shoved the number tag into my hand.
"Maggie, why don't you go grab a coffee to tide you over? We'll call you when our table's ready," she said.
As she spoke, she dangled a little charm from the car keys in front of my face, flashing an innocent smile.
"They gave us a pair when we got the car washed last time. Johnny and I each took one. You're okay with that, right?" she added.
I stared at the matching charms and then caught sight of her lipstick in the glove compartment and her playlist on the car's Bluetooth.
Suddenly, I didn't feel carsick anymore.
If that car was only meant for two, maybe it was time for the backseat passenger, me, to get out.
*****
There was a long line outside the coffee shop.
Johnny texted me. [There are too many people in line. Once you get your coffee, come upstairs.
[Jasmine's got low blood sugar, so I'm taking her in to grab a bite first.]
Right after, Jasmine posted on her social media.
In the photo, two steaming drinks were set on a table for two by the window.
Johnny's jacket was draped over her lap.
The caption said, [Somebody remembers I can't have cold drinks.]
I looked down at the bouquet of sunflowers in my hands.
It was the fifth anniversary of Johnny and me being together.
Last year, around this time, he was waiting for me outside my old school gate, holding the same flowers, promising that on every anniversary, he'd let me ride shotgun.
Back then, he was still driving a used car, and the passenger door lock was broken.
Every time I got in, I had to crawl over from the driver's side, and my knees always got banged up.
Johnny couldn't stand seeing me hurt, so he scrimped and saved for three months to fix that lock.
He said, "Maggie, from now on, this seat is for you only."
Later, he traded in that old car for the new one he drove.
The passenger seat belonged to Jasmine.
When I finally reached the counter, the waitress asked what I wanted.
I felt a lump in my throat.
"Lemonade," I said.
The waitress looked surprised.
I put my phone away and walked out of the coffee shop.
Through the restaurant's glass window, I saw Johnny leaning in, focused on cracking a crab for Jasmine.
He gently placed the crab meat onto a small plate and set it in front of her.
Jasmine smiled, picked up a piece, and waved at me from behind the glass.
Johnny finally looked up and saw me.
He frowned, grabbed his phone, and called me.
He said, "Why are you standing outside? Jasmine's holding your spot.
"She had a stomachache earlier, so she ordered ahead. What's the big deal? Maggie, don't make a fuss because it's our anniversary."
The wind rushed up from the parking garage entrance, making the petals of my sunflowers tremble nonstop.
"I'm not eating tonight," I said.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
His voice instantly went cold. "Seriously, Maggie? Are you starting this again?"
"No," I said.
"Then come on up," he said.
Jasmine's voice came through the phone. "Johnny, don't snap at Maggie.
"She's probably feeling left out because I got the front seat."
Johnny lowered his voice, but I still caught it.
"Don't mind her. We shouldn't spoil her when she acts like that," he said.
So, to him, my sadness was me throwing a little tantrum.
Before hanging up, he added, "Don't toss the flowers. Jasmine likes them. We'll bring them to her office after we eat."
I stared at the sunflowers in my arms.
The stems had gone limp because I'd been gripping them so hard.
A few seconds later, I left them beside the mall's trash can.
A little girl ran over and asked, "Miss, don't you want these flowers anymore?"
I crouched down and gently straightened the wrapping paper.
"You can have them," I told her.
The little girl hugged the bouquet and ran back to her mom.
My phone lit up again.
Jasmine sent me a voice message. [Maggie, Johnny ordered your favorite beef stew. Hurry up and get over here, or they'll get cold and won't taste as good.]
I didn't bother to open it.
I took Johnny off my pinned chats.
As the mall elevator doors slowly slid shut, Johnny burst out of the restaurant.
Through the narrowing gap, he shouted my name, his face dark with anger.
"Maggie, try walking out today. I dare you!" Johnny shouted.
The moment the doors closed, I pressed the button for the parking garage.
Through the crack, I saw him gripping the reservation slip for the three-person table.
When I got home, the living room lights were on.
Johnny had gotten back before me.
He was sitting on the couch, with takeout boxes and the bouquet of sunflowers I'd given away sitting on the coffee table.
A few petals were missing, as if someone had picked them up from next to the mall trash can.
Jasmine was standing by the kitchen door, wearing my apron.
It was the apron I bought on my very first day here, the one with the little bunny stitched on the front.