Don't Explain

twelve.

The thought hit me suddenly, as I sat on the couch staring at my phone. It had been a rough few days—Prince's sudden dismissal the night his wife showed up still lingered in my mind, making me feel a bit hollow. But at the same time, I wasn't ready to give up the life I had. That push and pull, the balance between emotion and practicality, had always been part of the game. I needed something to fill that emptiness, something to love me unconditionally, without the baggage or complications.

A puppy.

The idea brought a warmth to my chest. A puppy would be perfect. They were loyal, loving, and always happy to see you—no complicated feelings, no jealousy, no emotional games. Just pure, innocent affection.

I pictured it: a small, fluffy dog curled up on my lap while I lounged in the apartment. I could take it for walks around the neighborhood, go on little adventures together. It would be something of my own, something to care for and love that wasn't tied up in the complications of my relationship with Prince. It would offer me that softness I craved, without any strings attached.

The more I thought about it, the more certain I became. A puppy would be a perfect addition to my life. But puppies, especially the breeds I was thinking about, were expensive. I could afford it, sure, but this was something I wanted Prince to give me. It felt like the perfect ask—something small and sweet, and yet meaningful enough that he couldn't say no without looking heartless. Besides, he always liked to be the provider, to give me things that made me happy.

I grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over his name in my contacts list. Should I call him? No—this was something I wanted to ask him in person. It had to be strategic, not too demanding but also framed in a way that made it seem like it was for both of us. A puppy could symbolize more than just affection—it could represent the bond we were building, the little pieces of stability I wanted in my life with him.

The next time I saw Prince, I was going to ask for a puppy. And I was confident he'd say yes.

***

Later that evening, I was lounging on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels, when there was a knock at the door. I wasn't expecting anyone, and for a moment, my heart raced. I had no idea who it could be.

I padded over to the door, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, and peeked through the peephole. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him.

It was Prince, standing there with an enormous bouquet of flowers in his hand. The arrangement was stunning—vivid reds, soft whites, and delicate pinks all woven together in a cascading display of beauty. For a moment, I just stared at the door, stunned. He hadn't said he was coming over, and after everything that happened the other night, I wasn't sure what to expect.

Finally, I opened the door, my stomach tightening with a mix of nerves and curiosity.

"Prince?" I said, my voice more surprised than I intended.

He gave me that signature half-smile, but there was something softer in his eyes this time. "I owe you an apology," he said, stepping inside as he handed me the bouquet. The scent of fresh roses filled the space between us, and I felt my guard start to slip, just a little.

"For what?" I asked, though I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"For how things went down the other night," he replied, running a hand through his hair, looking almost... uneasy. "I didn't handle it well. I shouldn't have let you feel like you were being cast aside so suddenly."

I was silent for a moment, taking in his words as I set the flowers down on the table. I had expected him to sweep it under the rug, but here he was, actually acknowledging it, apologizing. It was such a rare moment of humility from him that I wasn't sure how to respond at first.