What Blooms From Burned Love

After they left, Suri drove straight to the law firm.

Mr. Specter, her lawyer, greeted her with his usual calm. "Ms. Somerset, I'll file it today. In about a month, you and Mr. Jerkinson can swing by for the divorce decree."

For the first time in forever, something in her chest eased.

On the way back, she swung by the farmer's market.

It was his final ask—she'd give him that.

She picked out the best chicken, headed home, and started prepping dinner.

She'd cooked more meals than she could count.

Bruce was always picky. The only food he actually liked? The stuff she made.

When they first got married, she'd loved cooking for him every day.

Then one day, he told her to stop—said he didn't want her getting worn out.

She never thought the next time he'd ask her to cook, it'd be for someone else.

The soup simmered for almost two hours. Suri brought it to the table just as Bruce walked in with Julie.

"Smells amazing, Suri. You've worked hard."

Julie floated over, and right away, Suri clocked the diamond necklace. Brand new. Limited edition.

"Nice necklace," she said, her tone light.

Julie pretended to take it off, all theatrical. "Saw it while we were shopping. Bruce bought it for me. You like it, Suri? I'll totally give it to you."

Bruce stepped in. "Don't. I bought it for you—it's yours."

He turned to Suri. "I got you something too."

He handed her a wrapped box—fancy ribbon, clean fold, but at the bottom, small print: 'Free Gift.'

Suri felt her heart crack wide open.

"Thanks. Let's eat." She forced a smile, took the box, and ladled soup into Julie's bowl.

Julie took a sip, then gagged hard.

"Ugh, it smells awful!" She covered her mouth. "This is disgusting. If you didn't want to cook, you could've just said so! I'm gonna throw up—ugh—"

"Get it out of here, now!" Bruce barked, waving the maid over to take the soup away.

As the maid reached for the pot, Bruce waved her off—too fast. The scalding pot tipped, splashing Suri's bare arm.

"Ah!" she gasped, flinching from the burn.

The maid jumped. "Mrs. Jerkinson, are you okay?"

"Suri, what happened?" Bruce turned, looking shaken.

But then—Julie grabbed her stomach. "Ah! Bruce, it hurts—my stomach! Am I going into labor?"

Bruce snapped. "Suri, look what you've done! If something happens to the baby, I'll never forgive you!"

He didn't wait. He scooped Julie up and bolted. "Driver! Start the car—we're going to the hospital!"

Suri stood frozen, staring at the burn on her arm.

It throbbed like a warning flare, torching whatever hope she had left.

"What's wrong with Mr. Jerkinson? You're hurt and he just bailed without even checking on you," the maid muttered, grabbing the first aid kit. "He wasn't always like this. People say men change... guess it's true.

"You've done everything for him. Just 'cause you can't have kids—"

She cut herself off.

Suri stared at the mess on the floor and let out a low, bitter laugh.

"This was the last meal I'll ever cook for you, Bruce Jerkinson."