I came home early with flowers in my hand, ready to surprise him.
As I opened the door, I heard laughter upstairs.
At first, I thought he had friends over—until I heard her voice.
My best friend’s jacket was hanging on our chair.
Step by step, I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with every whisper.
The closer I got, the clearer their voices became—low, intimate, playful.
I stood at the bedroom door, my hands shaking as I pushed it open.
What I saw inside made the bouquet fall from my grip.
The roses scattered on the floor, petals breaking apart—just like my heart.
