Too Late for Roses

But very quickly, anger replaced the look on his face.

"Nora, do you think I'm useless too? Do you think I'll never succeed, just like the rest of them?

"I knew it. I was wrong about you!"

After saying that, he stormed out and slammed the door.

I watched his back as he left and understood that he was trying to force me to compromise.

But I did not call him back. I even picked up my phone and blocked every way he could contact me.

Then I picked up the IOU. There was no borrower's name and no fingerprint.

It was fake at a glance, yet I had stupidly believed it twice.

I laughed at myself and called the property agent.

"Hello. Please help me sublet the flower shop on Central Street."

I had opened that flower shop to support Lucas.

Now that I no longer wanted him, there was no need to keep the shop running.

Besides, I was leaving.

The next morning, I stayed home to pack.

Looking around the small, dark rental, I realized there was almost nothing worth taking.

Birthday cards thrown away by bakeries, pretty stones picked up from the roadside, a ring folded out of paper.

Lucas had given these things to me as surprises.

But every time I opened one of those little surprises, he looked just as surprised as I did.

Now that I thought about it, those so-called gifts were probably things he had casually ordered someone to put together. He likely did not even know what was inside.

The only decent gift he had ever given me was a necklace he bought for $80 from a street stall after his first startup supposedly succeeded.

Back then, I thought he had wasted money and got angry with him for some time.

Lucas only looked at me with amusement.

He said I was silly. He asked what would happen if he really became rich one day and I still could not bear to spend money.

At the time, I thought he was being tender toward me.

Now, I knew he genuinely thought I was stupid.

In our endless chat history, Lucas had called me stupid 517 times.

When I ran across three streets to buy his favorite late-night snack, he said, "Why is Nora so stupid?"

When he had a fever and I put my only raincoat over him before carrying him to the hospital, he said, "She's so stupid it's almost funny."

Even when I lay in his arms and imagined our future together, he still wrote in the group, "Nora is stupid beyond saving. She's this poor and still dreams about a future with me."

Even through cold text, I could imagine the contempt and mockery on his face when he typed those words.

But it did not matter anymore.

From now on, Lucas Hart would no longer be part of Nora Bell's future.

I kept packing, but by the end, the large suitcase was still empty.

The trash can, however, was full.

I looked once more at the home I had lived in for two years.

The peeling walls stained with water marks, the chair with one broken leg, the bed made from bricks and wooden boards.

When things were a little better, I had thought about fixing up this home properly.

But Lucas refused every time.

He said once we had money, we would not live here anymore, so there was no point decorating.

I believed every promise he made, then guarded this broken-down home like a fool, waiting for those promises to come true.

Thinking of that, I suddenly felt it was all meaningless.

I closed my suitcase. The property agent called.

"Ms. Bell, I can't make the decision about subletting the flower shop. You'll need to speak to the landlord yourself."

At three that afternoon, I arrived on time at the office building where I was supposed to meet the agent.

In the ornate hallway, through a door left slightly open, I saw Lucas.

He was wearing a well-fitted suit, head lowered as he played with his phone.

Beside him, a well-dressed woman leaned intimately against his shoulder.

I recognized her almost immediately.

Two days ago, my flower shop had received an order for nine hundred ninety-nine roses.

Because the customer specifically requested that the thorns not be removed, my hands were covered in blood by the time I finished wrapping them.

When I personally took a cab to deliver them, the woman who received the flowers was this woman, Anne Chase.

In the center of the roses was a card the customer had requested.

"To the love of my life, Anne. From: L.H."

Only at that moment did I realize L.H. was Lucas Hart.

He knew very well that because I needed money, I would never turn down such a large order.