Find The Most Beautiful Version of Yourself

I rushed to the police department's archive room to check the files.

Scott sent a message.

“What are you up to? When will you be back?”

I had left my phone outside the archive room and hadn’t seen it.

“How about steak for dinner tonight? The non-spicy kind.”

“Lillian, the gardenia has withered. What should I do?”

…

Just an afternoon away from my phone, and Scott had sent a barrage of messages as if he was catching up on years’ worth of missed texts.

In the past, my messages to him had been one-sided monologues.

He would occasionally respond with a terse “oh” if he was in a good mood, but mostly he just ignored me.

I never imagined Scott would send me so many messages in my lifetime.

If this had happened before, it would have made me incredibly happy.

When I got home, Scott was still awake, lounging on the sofa with a distant, vacant stare.

He sprang up as soon as he saw me and rushed over to my side.

“What’s taking you so long? Why are you coming back so late?”

I rubbed my temples, the complexity of the case files making my head spin.

“Just had some work to handle. Were you waiting for me?”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’m a bit tired.”

Scott stubbornly blocked my path.

“Lillian, I waited for you all night!”

“I’ve already apologized for what happened before, and I’ll be more careful about dinner next time. Is there something else you want to talk about?”

“Avoiding this won’t help. It’s going to hurt our relationship.”

It’s clear he understands the logic but has never really felt it. He just knows I care more about him.

“Scott, are you really this upset over one missed message?”

“Should I list all the times you’ve ignored my messages? Or is not responding just something only you get to do?”

Scott’s face showed a moment of embarrassment before he became persistent again. “So, you’re sulking to get my attention?”

I answered calmly, trying to stay detached.

“You’re reading too much into it. I was just busy and didn’t see it.”

“Is this because of Hannah? I can explain.”

I didn’t get why he was pushing me to admit I was hurt when I was trying to move on.

It was frustrating.

“It’s not about that! You and she are close friends, and close friends share everything, right?”

Feeling overwhelmed by the emotional conversation, I decided to change the subject.

“If the gardenia is dead, just throw it away. It wasn’t that important to you anyway.”

Scott had once mentioned liking gardenias, so I bought several pots and took great care of them.

Each one withered as if foreshadowing the end of our relationship.

I only found out that Hannah was the one who truly loved gardenias. Scott’s interest was just a byproduct of that.

Scott’s lips tightened, a flash of guilt in his eyes.

“There’s my art exhibition this weekend. Would you like to come with me?”