His red and white roses

Chapter 1

It was our fifth anniversary, and I discovered Mark’s secret.

Every year, he’d get me my favorite white roses, but this year, he showed up with red ones. He said, “It’s time for a change.”

Later, Mark planted an acre of white roses, begging for my forgiveness. I just smiled faintly and said, “You’re right. It is time for a change.”

…

It was our fifth anniversary, and the weather was awful. I was carrying the cake home when it started pouring.

The sidewalk was slick, and I fell, scraping my palms and knees. The cake was a mess.

I called Mark, but he said he was busy and hung up quickly.

He’d been so busy lately. I couldn’t remember how many times he’d rushed me off the phone or stood me up this year.

I struggled to my feet, limped to the car, and drove home. I cleaned my scrapes with some antiseptic.

Mark came home around 1:30 AM. I’d been sitting on the living room couch, almost dozing off.

He had a bouquet of bright red roses and a smile on his face. “Sorry, I’ve been swamped, but I didn’t forget what today is.”

I stared at the red roses. “Why red? You know I love white roses.”

He shrugged. “It’s time for a change.”

A sharp pang of hurt went through me, but I took the flowers anyway.

Mark finally noticed my scrapes. His face went pale, and he frowned. “Claire, what happened?”

Tears welled up as I told him about my disastrous day. He gently lifted me from the couch.

As I buried my face in his neck, I caught a whiff of strong perfume, not his usual sandalwood scent.

I lay in bed, deliberately turning away from him.

My mind was a tangled mess of emotions.

Mark held me tight, oblivious, the cloying perfume filling my nostrils, making me nauseous.

I drifted off to sleep and woke up around noon. Mark was gone.

He’d silenced my phone. He’d texted me: “Sleep well, honey.”

His files for the new project were on the table.

He’d been complaining about how stressful it was.

I went to his office. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been there in so long, but everyone seemed nervous to see me.

They exchanged glances, and then Lisa suddenly blurted out, “Claire! It’s been ages!”

I’d hired Lisa, and she’d always been respectful.

I’d helped Mark build this company from the ground up. After it became stable and after I got sick, I stepped back.

The door to Mark’s office suddenly opened, and Sarah came out, her hair messy.

She walked toward me, a strange smile on her face, almost mocking, almost challenging.

The familiar perfume hit me. I watched her walk back to her desk.

A bright bouquet of red roses sat there, impossible to miss.

My nails dug into my palms, the scrapes stinging.

I walked into Mark’s office, trying to stay calm. He was frantically buttoning his shirt, the top two buttons still undone.

I reached out and fastened them. He flinched.

“What’s wrong? Are you hot? Why isn’t the AC on?”

His ears were bright red. He avoided my eyes. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

I fought to keep my voice steady. “I brought your files. Did I come at a bad time?”

“No, no, it wasn’t anything important. You should be resting.”

Oh, so this wasn’t important?

Sarah was important.

I had underestimated her. Two years ago, a girl fresh out of high school had crashed into our car in the pouring rain.

She’d broken her leg but refused any compensation, asking only for a job.

She said her parents favored her brother and had forced her to drop out of school to marry a stranger for the dowry money to buy him a house. She had run away.

We felt sorry for her, guilty even, and gave her a job.

Mark had told me more than once that Sarah reminded him of me, vulnerable and in need of protection.

Mark was so good at protecting people. Now I knew what he meant by “time for a change.”

Chapter 2

Mark and I had been together for thirteen years. I was seventeen when we met.

My mom and I lived in the shadow of my dad’s abuse. When I was sixteen, she finally found the courage to leave him.

That year, we lived a simple but happy life. It lasted only a year before Mom was diagnosed with lung cancer.

I juggled school, caring for her, and a part-time job at the cafeteria. Time felt like it was being squeezed out of a tube.

That was the year I met Mark. His mother was my mom’s doctor. She helped us immensely, raising money and finding us a place to stay.

But Mom didn’t make it. I fell into a deep depression.

I tried to end my life several times. Each time, Mark pulled me back. He helped me through those dark, difficult years.

One day, he confessed his love for me.

He said, “Let me take care of you now.”

After Mom died, Mark was my life for thirteen years. My happiness, my sadness, my memories – they were all filled with him.

I thought our love was unbreakable, that we would grow old together. I never imagined he would betray me.

I don’t remember how I got home that day.

My heart ached, but I couldn’t cry.

I sat on the couch, motionless, listening to the ticking clock.

Mark came home early that night, probably feeling guilty.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch again?”

He carried me to bed and soothed me like a child.

He went to the bathroom. I couldn’t sleep, listening to the shower running.

His phone was on my pillow. I easily unlocked it.

I trusted him completely. This was the only time I ever looked at his phone.

He trusted me too. He hadn’t changed his password in years.

I opened his messages with Sarah. Intimate, inappropriate messages filled the screen.

Our fifth anniversary was Sarah’s birthday. What a coincidence.

Mark had been celebrating with her, the room filled with her favorite red roses. Even my bouquet was just an extra he’d bought.

His busy schedule this past year, the business trips, the times he’d stood me up – he’d been with Sarah, traveling the world.

Disney fireworks, mountains of StellaLou plushies, romantic French restaurants…

Mark had done those things with me too.

When I was sick, he’d tirelessly taken me to amusement parks, saying he wanted to bring me joy. Roller coasters, pirate ships, Ferris wheels…

He said when he had money, he’d take me to Disney. Later, we focused on our careers and ran out of time, ran out of energy.

I thought he’d forgotten his promise. He hadn’t. He just wanted to take someone else.

Mark came out of the shower. I pretended to be asleep. The awful perfume was finally gone.

He whispered my name a few times, checking if I was really asleep.

He went to the balcony and video-called Sarah.

Her voice was sweet and childish. “Mark, you said you and Claire were over. When are you getting divorced?”

He chuckled. “Be patient, honey.”

…

All the beautiful illusions I had about him, our intense love, shattered in the most cruel way.

I froze, numb, unable to react.

The night air was cool. I sneezed.

Mark spun around, dropping his phone.

“Mark, what was that?” Sarah cried out.

He scrambled to pick it up and quickly ended the call.

“You’re awake?”

Every inch of me ached. “I thought I heard Sarah’s voice.”

He forced a smile. “Just some trouble with the project.”

He put his arm around me, worried I’d catch a chill, and led me back to bed. He subtly tried to find out if I’d heard their conversation.

I shook my head.

Relieved, he relaxed visibly.

After thirteen years, I still couldn’t accept his betrayal.

I wanted to give him one last chance, give myself one last chance.

“Mark, can you fire Sarah?”

He snapped. “Fire her? For what?”

My world tilted. I pushed him away and grabbed the wall for support.

“You said this project was important, right? And Sarah’s in charge of it. Isn’t that grounds for dismissal?”

“It was one mistake. Firing her is too harsh.”

I burst into tears. “Are you being kind, or are you just reluctant to let her go?”

He panicked. “Claire, did you hear something?”

I cried out, “What do you want me to hear?”

We stood there for a long time. Finally, Mark backed down. “Okay, maybe firing is too much. I can transfer her to another department.”

I laughed bitterly. Was this supposed to be a compromise?

He kept his word and transferred Sarah to the administrative department, in a different building across the campus.

I watched from my car as they said goodbye in the parking garage, clinging to each other like it was the end of the world.

Sarah whined, “It’s so far. It’ll be hard to see you. How long do you expect me to wait?”

They kissed.

A wave of nausea washed over me.

I rolled down the window and yelled, “Mark!”

Chapter 3

My heart was dead. I sped away, furious.

Thirty minutes later, Mark came home, stammering excuses. “Claire, let me explain! Sarah was upset about her mistake at work. I was just comforting her.”

My chest heaved. “Comforting her with a kiss?”

His face turned white. “I… I don’t know how it happened… It’s not what you think.”

“Mark, let’s get a divorce.”

He panicked. “Claire, I swear, it was nothing! You can fire her tomorrow. Please believe me.”

My emotions overwhelmed me. “You’re still lying? I gave you a chance last night.”

He collapsed on the floor. After a long silence, he whispered, “Claire, I was wrong. Forgive me. Please give me another chance.”

I shook my head, my chest aching.

“Claire, think about the thirteen years we’ve had. We’ve come so far. Can you really throw it all away? Everyone makes mistakes. Can’t you give me one chance?”

Memories flooded my mind.

Mark was woven into my soul. Ripping him away felt like being torn apart.

A sharp pain shot through my abdomen. It intensified, and sweat beaded on my forehead.

Mark’s phone rang. He kept silencing it, but it kept ringing. Finally, he answered.

Sarah was sobbing. “Mark, I’ve been in an accident. Come quick…”

He jumped to his feet, suddenly full of energy.

I’d actually held onto a sliver of hope. I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go! My stomach hurts. Take me to the hospital.”

He pulled away. “Claire, wait for me. I’ll explain everything when I get back. Sarah’s been in an accident. It’s an emergency.”

I grabbed him again. “If Sarah can call you, can’t she call 911? An ambulance? Someone will take her to the hospital. I’m giving you one last chance. Take me to the hospital.”

“Claire, stop being unreasonable!”

He shoved me, and I hit the corner of the table hard.

He didn’t even look back as he rushed out.

I collapsed, blood staining my white dress, spreading across the floor.

I lost consciousness and woke up in the hospital.

My housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, had brought me.

I lost the baby. I hadn’t been intentionally hiding my pregnancy.

I wanted to surprise Mark on our anniversary.

But he had surprised me instead.

My ultrasound report was on the coffee table. If he’d cared, he would have noticed it. He’d picked me up from the couch twice, but hadn’t seen it.

Mrs. Davis brought me food, her face flushed with anger. “Ms. Claire, I can’t believe it. You’re in this state, and Mr. Harrison…”

She stopped, looking at me lying weakly in bed.

“Tell me. I’m okay.”

“I saw Mr. Harrison when I went to get food. I thought he was here for you, but he was with another woman.

She’d sprained her ankle. The doctor said it was nothing serious, but she was clinging to him and crying.

The other driver was there too, saying she’d staged the accident.

I never imagined Mr. Harrison would be like this…”

The same trick. Sarah was good at it. Hearing this, I almost laughed.

Mrs. Davis, outspoken and indignant, wanted to confront him, but I stopped her.

She paused, her eyes red. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call him?”

I shook my head, holding back tears. “No. He doesn’t even know I was pregnant.”

I saw Mark and Sarah the day I was discharged.

Sarah, her foot bandaged, was hanging on him like a koala. They were laughing and flirting.

Mark’s smile vanished when he saw me. “Claire? You see? I wasn’t lying. Sarah’s hurt. You didn’t have to come check up on me.”

I ignored him. The pain in my abdomen intensified. Mrs. Davis helped me out of the hospital.

When Mark came home, I gave him the divorce papers I had prepared.

He ripped them up. “Claire, let me explain! You know about Sarah’s family. She’s all alone. No one to take care of her. I just wanted to help her.

I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll cut ties with her.”

Mrs. Davis finally lost her temper. “Mr. Harrison, how can you say that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to Ms. Claire?”

He exploded. “This is between my wife and me! It’s none of your business! And you’re just a housekeeper. You have no right to speak.”

“Housekeeper or not, I’m honest, unlike some people who are lower than dirt. I only speak up because I care about Ms. Claire.

You were flirting with your mistress at the hospital while Ms. Claire was there too! She had a miscarriage because you pushed her!

Isn’t she all alone?”

Mark’s eyes widened. He stared at me in disbelief. “Claire, you were pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?”