Where the Flowers Go

'It's dirty? Or maybe you're worried I'd pick up on the perfume—the one Susanna wears,' I mused silently.

The revulsion I had managed to suppress on my walk came flooding back, threatening to spill out and reveal everything.

However, with my departure looming in just two days, I realized there was no point in confronting him about it all.

"Sure, whatever you want," I said, my voice flat.

Frank looked at me, his eyes soft with a love that seemed to linger. "You're not yourself today. Did someone upset you? Let me handle it. If you're just feeling down, how about I treat you to a feast to cheer you up a bit?"

We had been together for five years. I knew Frank, and he knew me—or so I thought. He could always tell when something was on my mind, and he would soothe me with a gentle voice.

I used to melt into his arms, soothed by his words, but then, my heart felt nothing.

Before I could figure out what to say, his phone rang. It was too close not to see—the screen read " My darling wife."

After he hung up, Frank looked guilty. "Teresa, I've got to run to an emergency meeting at work about a deal with the Jackson Group. Hang tight at home, and I'll bring back your favorite cake."

He did not wait for my answer and rushed off.

I gave a strained smile and started to pack up my life in silence. I tried to fit everything into three suitcases, but it was too much. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but tears came first.

For five years, whenever I felt down, Frank had a knack for cheering me up with little treats or lavish gifts. They had piled up, and then they seemed like a mountain of empty gestures.

Everyone thought he loved me deeply. I did too, once.

When did our love start to slip away?

Was it when the clothes I gifted him, the mug I crafted with my own hands, the watch I picked out with such care, all began to fade into the background, unnoticed?

Or was it after Susanna came into the picture, and he started spinning tales of late nights at the office, endless meetings, and business trips, only to be found with her, time and time again?

Maybe it was when he whispered sweet nothings about loving me, about a lavish wedding, but ended up with his arms around Susanna, kissing her again and again, giving her the wedding, standing with her at the altar, and making me the one left in the shadows?

I thought about calling him out. On the drive from work to home, a thousand questions burned on my tongue, but I never let them out.

It was not worth it.

I dialed a number and gave my orders.

"Alan, I'm heading overseas in three days for Ms. Jackson's wedding planning. I need to add a detail.

"Have a courier deliver a bouquet of flowers. On the card, just write 'Wishing Mr. Frank and Ms. Susanna a lifetime of happiness' and sign my name.

"Don't bother confirming with them. Let's call it a little extra surprise from their wedding planner."

After tying up all loose ends, I got a text from Susanna.

She sent me an address and a follow-up text.

[I'm rehearsing the wedding with my soon-to-be husband tomorrow. I've got a gift for you tonight. Are you brave enough to take it?]

I hesitated for just a moment before heading out alone.

Stepping into the bar, I immediately ran into one of Frank's friends, stumbling drunk outside a VIP room.

He looked at me and smirked.

"Aren't you a dead ringer for Frank's little girlfriend? No way I'm wrong, right?

"Frank, that guy, he's about to tie the knot, yet he's still playing games. Doesn't he know he's playing with fire? We're all tiptoeing around, scared to death we'll let something slip.

"His girlfriend is the one I feel sorry for. Everyone's in on the secret but her.

"Hey, what's your name?"

I stared blankly at the person who collapsed in the doorway.

It looked like the whole world was clued in about Susanna, except for me.

My life had become a walking punchline.

I lingered outside the booth, peering through the door at Frank, who was loudly declaring a company meeting, while nursing drink after drink in the bar's secluded corner.