I've Changed

8. tulips and daisies

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Whether it takes months, years, or even forever I will show you how much I've changed.

I almost laughed at that one.

I didn't expect him to commit to his promise since it was difficult enough for him to start a conversation. Honestly, I was quite smug because as much as he tried to conceal every shaky breath and hesitation, I was aware of how much I had intimidated him. It was something that I had gotten used to over the years from my peers but for some reason, it felt satisfying breaking down his barriers and having him struggle.

My biggest regret is leaving you.

Is it really?

After that awful interaction, there's no doubt that he has changed. That's my opinion only on the way he presents himself. Yes, he might've been more restless and shy but I've already known that about him. He just decides to show that side of himself now and I'm not content with it yet.

I'm still conflicted.

I've gotten a glimpse, and am completely intrigued. Perhaps the reason as to why I'm feeding into his delusion of fixing this...dynamic between us. I'm curious. I want to know more. I'm going to drain him from all of his efforts and prove to him that they're all useless at the end of the day. No matter how hard he tries.

Memories of him shattering my heart and forcing me to piece it back together alone are etched in my mind and soul. He is part of the reason as to why I'm like this—broken, emotionless, and numb. But nothing can compare to the heartbreak after his own. Nothing compares to the cruel world I've experienced and I hope he realizes that he is simply an inconvenience. He is an addition to my pile of other problems. He is the least of my priorities.

I don't care if you are my friend, enemy, or stranger I will not give up until I've proven my worth.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts my thoughts. Good. I shouldn't bother myself by a fantasy. I don't have time for an unrealistic dream.

I glance at the time, notice that it's already 8 o'clock in the evening, and find no importance in opening the door. Sofie has gone out and I'm busy with emails and preparations for the Masquerade Ball. I'm also on a streak with productivity and don't want to interrupt my concentration.

I continue working, typing away on my laptop in hopes the person at the door will leave. I silently wait until the doorbell rings again.

I groan.

I force myself to the front door and open it. "Hello," I smile to the delivery person, wiping away my annoyed expression previously. I can't help but be drawn to the flowers that he's carrying.

He tells me to sign something before handing them over and leaving. I close the door behind me as I examine the bouquet, already assuming that they're for Sofie.

Sometimes Aaron surprises her with these 'gifts' whereas me and Malcom refer to them as 'poor-attempts-of-an-apology'. After arguments, he'd send her peace offerings in hopes to win back her trust again. Sofie doesn't seem to mind and appreciates them nonetheless. From my perspective, however, it's hard watching my best friend fall into a cycle of forgiveness and disappointment. It's not like I have much to say anyways. I was in her position once.

I carry them into our kitchen, preparing a vase for them on our counter. As I'm about to remove the wrapping, I notice an elegant card attached to them.