Gemotions

She stared at the carnations, the bright pink a painful reminder. They sat on the kitchen table, a splash of colour against the dull beige. The delivery had been a surprise, left on her doorstep with no explanation. It made her chest clench, a physical manifestation of the ache she carried.

She should have listened. She should have understood. He was right, of course. She’d been so caught up in her own hurt that she'd failed to see his. The betrayal was her fault, even though she couldn't forgive herself.

She went to the window and looked out at the street. The world seemed bright and bustling, full of life, while she was stuck in this awful quiet. The blooms were a plea, she knew it. And she couldn’t answer.