Chapter 3

The plane touched down at 4:00 PM.

The air in the south was much more humid than in Riverside City. The moment I stepped out of the terminal, a wave of dampness hit me.

I hailed a cab and showed the driver the address Melissa had sent me. It was a residential complex in the new development zone, surrounded by shiny new high-rises.

My place was on the sixteenth floor, a two-bedroom apartment fully furnished with brand-new appliances. On the coffee table lay the keys and the deed that was in my name.

Beside them was an envelope containing six thousand dollars in cash and a brief note: [Contact me once you've settled in. —Melissa.]

I crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it into the trash. Then, I turned on my phone.

I got a new number and a new WhatsApp account. My contacts list only had one number, which was the supplier for a flower shop.

Melissa had handled the legwork, finding me a small flower shop on the commercial street just outside the complex.

The owner, Helen Harper, was a woman in her fifties who was looking to sell the business so she could head back to her hometown to look after her grandkids.

I deactivated all my social media accounts. I had created new accounts for Twitter, Facebook, and even my payment apps.

I hadn't unfollowed Alex's Instagram yet.

I clicked on his profile one last time. His avatar was still that dog. a goofy-looking Shiba Inu. I'd set it as his profile picture using his phone while he was wasted last winter.

He'd noticed it the next day but didn't bother to change it, simply muttering that it was "stupid."

His account was set to private. His bio was a total blank.

I logged out and deactivated that account, too.

Then, I headed over to the flower shop.

Helen was in the middle of arranging the last bouquet of lilies.

The place was tiny, maybe 200 square feet, right on the street with a kindergarten across the road.

It was 4:30 PM, sunlight streaming in at an angle, and the pothos vines on the shelves trailed down in the golden light.

"You must be Sophie, right?" Helen said, wiping her hands. Come on in. Let me show you the place."

She walked me through everything, from the storefront to the back room, the cooler, the workbench, and the register.

The flowers were ordered directly from Meadowville, and the supplier's number was taped to the wall.

The rent was paid through the end of the year. After that, I was on my own.

"What made you want to open a flower shop?" Helen asked.

"I just like it," I replied.

That was a lie.

The truth was, Alex had once walked past a florist and offhandedly remarked, "Those flowers look nice." I had taken it to heart for three years.

Helen handed me the keys, gave me a few parting reminders, and then left.

I stood there alone in the flower shop.

The scent of lilies filled the air, so sweet it was almost nauseating. I yanked the flowers out of the vase and dumped them in the trash, then turned on the tap to wash my hands. The cold water splashed loudly against my skin.

The wind chimes at the door jingled. I looked up.

A little girl poked her head in. She looked about five or six, with her hair tied in pigtails. "Miss, I want some flowers."

"Who are they for?" I asked.

"My mom." She stood on tiptoe and put her money on the counter. "It's her birthday today."

There were five bucks in total.

I wrapped up a bouquet of carnations and handed them over. She clutched them to her chest and skipped out, happy as a clam.

The sunlight caught her back as she ran.

Leaning against the doorframe, I watched her run off and suddenly remembered being sixteen, on my mother's birthday. I snuck into the kitchen at Sterling Estate and made her a cake.

She only took a few bites before she started crying. She kept apologizing to me. She said she was sorry that I had to get the short end of the stick by following her.

I told her it was okay, that when I had money, I'd open a flower shop for her and give her flowers every day. But she never got to see that day.

Three years after the flower shop opened, my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer. The Sterlings picked up the medical tab, and Melissa handled the hospital arrangements herself.

On the day of the surgery, I waited outside the operating room for twelve hours, but Alex didn't call once.

When my mother finally came out, she was still unconscious.

I sat hunched in the hallway and called him. He picked up, but the background music was deafening. "Alex, my mom just got out of surgery. Could you possibly..."

"I'm busy," he said flatly, and then he hung up.

I sat there in that hallway, clutching my phone until the sun came up. The next day, he sent a text: [It was Daniel's birthday last night.]

I replied: [Okay.]

After my mother was discharged, her health stayed in the gutter. She couldn't handle the heavy lifting anymore.

But Melissa didn't let her go. Instead, she put her in charge of the backyard garden at Sterling Estate.

A year later, my mother passed away anyway. The day she died, Riverside City was blanketed in snow. I stood before the front gate of Sterling Estate, shaking with sobs.

Alex was backed from outside. His car pulled up, headlights washing over me. He paused for a moment and lowered the window. "Sorry for your loss." Then, he drove inside.

I stayed there in the snow, watching his taillights vanish toward the garage.

Daniel told me later that Alex had gone to see Emily that day.

"You know how Alex is. Emily calls, and he runs," Daniel said, patting my shoulder. "Don't take it to heart. Boys will be boys."

I didn't take it to heart. I just remembered it.

I remembered how biting the cold was, how his window lowered for three seconds and then shut, and the exact tone in his voice when he spoke those words.

It was the same tone he used when he told me I was "revolting" and to "get lost."