Unprofessional (Under editing)

Chapter 16 : Forgiveness

Three days later...

After three days of radio silence I resaved a bouquet of white tulips at my doormat. After three days of silence, I reserved a bouquet of delicate white tulips. A card was nestled between them, the words written in flawless cursive handwriting:

"The white tulip in the language of flowers means 'forgiveness.' I don't have the words to explain how sorry I am. You mean everything to me, and I know nobody can love you like I can. Please forgive me."

I read it over maybe a hundred times as I sat at my kitchen Island, still unsure whether I wanted to throw up or cry. (How did he even know where I lived? He'd never been here.) I thought. I woke up countless times in the middle of the night these past three days in cold sweats.

the events of that night replaying over and over in my mind. I was so disappointed in myself. I should've fought back. I could've kicked him, screamed for help—done anything. But instead, I froze. Paralyzed by fear.

I wanted to say I blocked him or thaw my phone at my wall but I didn't. After a few seconds of just staring at it and glancing behind me at my brother snoring on the couch. I picked it up off the counter, getting up of my bar stool and I walked towards the bathroom, closing the door then locking

My phone buzzed next to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. His name appeared on the screen. My chest tightened at the sight of it. I wanted to say I blocked him or thaw my phone at my wall but I didn't, and for a second, I just stared at the screen.

Glancing behind me, at my brother David, snoring on the couch, oblivious to everything. Grabbing my phone and slid off the barstool, walking toward the bathroom. I closed the door softly and turned the lock with a quiet click, sealing myself away in the small, dimly lit space.

I looked back down at my unlock phone, staring at his message. my pulse quickening. Then I lifted my gaze to the mirror. I looked like the definition of shit. My skin was dull, my eyes hollow, and tiny dark circles painted beneath them from sleepless nights. I pulled down the sleeve of my cardigan wincing back at the pain that ran through my arm.

I stared at the black and blue bruises, shaped like handprints, stood out angrily against the brown skin of my biceps . The sight of them made something inside me snap—a spark of anger ignited like the flicker of a birthday candle, fragile but burning nonetheless.

I'm not going to let him do this to me.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly as I typed back, my heart pounding in my chest.

Me: "What should I wear?"

______

I wore something simple. a long-sleeved black maxi dress, a diamond-studded necklace with a matching bracelet, black heels with red bottoms I'd managed to snag at a discounted price, and a red Coach bag. My hair was swept up into a messy but deliberate bun, with a few freshly curled ringlets falling effortlessly around my face.

Before stepping out of my room, I spritzed a sweet floral scent over myself, the delicate fragrance hanging in the air. As I opened the door, the sound of the Ruby Gloom theme song playing on the TV drifted through the apartment. I glanced over to see Lovey seated at the living room table, absorbed in her drawing. David was at the kitchen island, focused on his stack of papers with his headphones on, completely oblivious to the world around him.

"David," I called out, but he didn't hear me. I tried again, louder this time. His head shot up, his face scrunching slightly as he gave me a once-over, pulling one earphone behind his ear. He swiveled in his seat, giving me his full attention.