Let bygones be bygones

I picked up the glass of cold water on the table and took a sip; a bitter taste rose on my tongue. Neither. Liam 's affair was with a girl named Vanessa who worked at a flower shop on the street corner. She was dark-skinned and thin, with a low ponytail, wearing a faded work dress. Standing in the crowd, she was as ordinary as a speck of dust.

That year, Liam was thirty years old and had already become a legend in the physics world, winning awards left and right, surrounded by various socialites and ladies. But suddenly he lost interest in all of that and instead became obsessed with growing flowers. He transformed his small yard into a garden, bringing home imported tulips, rare blue star flowers, and common sunflowers—anything he found interesting.

His most treasured possession was that patch of irises. The seeds were a gift from me on my eighteenth birthday. I had joked at the time, "These flowers are like you; they look ordinary, but they bloom exceptionally beautifully." He cherished those seeds, personally turning the soil, sowing them, and watering them. Every day, the first thing he did after getting home from get off work was to go to the garden to see them.

“Look,” he once said, holding my hand and pointing to the newly blooming irises, his eyes filled with fascination, “such an inconspicuous seed, under the careful cultivation of people, can bloom into such a beautiful flower. The process is so wonderful, it’s like…like polishing a dusty bead to a shine.”

I didn't understand what he meant at the time. I just thought the flowers were pretty and said with a smile, "Then I'll water the flowers with you every day from now on." But he frowned and said, "You don't understand."

Looking back now, I realize he didn't find the flowers interesting; he found the process of "cultivation" interesting. As for me, I'm no longer the person who could inspire his "desire to cultivate"—I'm too familiar, too complacent, like an old tree in a garden that has already taken its shape, devoid of any surprises.

Vanessa appeared at this time. She was a delivery girl for the florist. The first time she came to deliver flowers, she squatted in the garden, pointed to the irises and said to Liam , " Mr. Liam , you've grown these flowers very well, but you could try using leaf mold. It's more breathable and can extend the flowering period by half a month. Also, irises like a semi-shaded environment, so it's best to provide some shade when the midday sun is too strong."

Liam was stunned. "I've been with him for so many years, and I've never cared what kind of soil his flowers like or how much sunlight they need. I only know he likes them, so I water and fertilize them for him, but I've never thought to understand them. But Vanessa is different. She can describe the habits of every flower, and she can talk to him about everything from photosynthesis to genetic mutations in plants, chatting until late at night without stopping."

At first, I didn't pay much attention, just thinking he'd made a new friend who knew about flowers. Until one day, I came home from work and saw Vanessa squatting in the garden, with Liam standing behind her, holding a handkerchief and gently wiping the sweat from her forehead. The setting sun bathed them in a warm yellow glow, the scene as harmonious as a painting—it was how we used to be.

“ Liam , who is she?” I gripped the shopping basket tightly, my knuckles aching from the pressure.

He turned around and saw me. The gentleness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by his usual calm: " Vanessa works at the florist. She's here to help me look at the flowers."

"Does she need to get this close to see the peanuts? Do you need to wipe her sweat?" I walked closer, my gaze fixed on Vanessa . She hurriedly stood up, awkwardly wringing her hands. "Ms. Jane, I'm sorry, I..."

"Shut up!" I interrupted her, turning to Liam . "Have you forgotten what you said back then? You said you'd never leave me, that I was the most important person to you!"

Liam frowned even more, his tone tinged with impatience: " Clara , can you please stop being so unreasonable? Vanessa and I are just friends. She knows about flowers and can help me a lot."

"A friend?" I laughed, laughing until tears almost came out. "Does a friend need you to text her every day to let her know she's safe? Does she need you to take her to the flower market on weekends, even forgetting my birthday? Does she need you to give her another set of the iris seeds I gave her?"

I took my phone out of my bag, and on the screen was a chat history with him that I had accidentally seen. Vanessa said, "It's a bit cold today," and he immediately replied, "I'll bring you a coat." Vanessa said, "I want to see the stars," and he said, "When I'm done with this busy period, I'll take you to the observatory." The most striking one was the sentence he said, " Vanessa , I only feel alive when I'm with you."

Liam 's expression shifted, but he showed no remorse. Instead, he sighed, " Clara , we've been together for too many years. You're too familiar with me, so familiar that I find you boring. Vanessa is different. She's like a blank canvas, showing me endless possibilities. She understands my pursuits and my ideals. But what about you? Besides the mundane details of daily life, what can you talk to me about?"

"I don't understand your ideals?" I suddenly remembered that when he first started graduate school, he didn't have money to buy experimental equipment, and I worked three jobs to raise the money for him; when he stayed up all night writing his thesis, I got up every morning to cook him a midnight snack; when his supervisor questioned him, I stayed up with him in the lab all night after night. He had forgotten all of this.

“You only understand my life, not my soul.” Liam ’s words were like an ice pick, piercing my heart. “ Clara , we are no longer from the same world.”

That day, I stood in the garden all night, looking at the blooming irises, and suddenly felt a deep irony. Years ago, I gave him the seeds to tell him that we were like these flowers; if we worked together, we could bloom in our most beautiful form. But I never imagined that in the end, he would use those flowers to nourish someone else's love.

Lila was filled with righteous indignation. She grabbed the rolling pin on the table, ready to slam it down: "That Liam is such a scoundrel! Clara , why didn't you slap him back then? This kind of ungrateful bastard deserves to be ruined!"

I gently shook my head and opened the notebook in the wooden box. The first page was written in Liam 's handwriting, still carrying the naivety of youth: " Clara gave me a hand warmer today, the first gift I've ever received in my life. I will study hard, earn lots of money in the future, buy her the best things, and protect her forever."

Behind the writing was a crooked little figure drawing a hand leading another even smaller figure, with the words " Clara and me" written next to it.

My fingertips traced the words, and my eyes slowly welled up with tears. Back then , Liam truly wanted to protect me forever. But later, he flew too high, too far, leaving all those promises behind in the wind.

"And then?" Lila leaned closer, her voice softening. "You just divorced him like that?"

I closed my notebook and looked out the window. The sun was shining brightly, steam rose from the steamed bun shop, and children's laughter drifted from afar. "No," I paused, my voice a little hoarse, "I was the one who initiated the divorce, but before that, I went through something far more painful than the divorce itself—I got pregnant with his child, and then I fell down the stairs while he was on a date with Vanessa ."