I flipped a page of my textbook, not reading a single word.

My phone sat face down on the polished oak table. I hadn't replied to any messages since walking out of the apartment.

A sudden commotion near the main entrance broke the silence.

I didn't look up until heavy footsteps stopped directly in front of my desk.

A massive bouquet of red roses dropped onto the open pages of my book.

Water droplets clung to the dark petals, soaking into the thin paper of my textbook.

Cole stood on the other side of the table. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his Richmond Athletics jacket, his jaw clenched tight.

"Take them," he demanded.

I didn't move.

"I don't want them," I replied.

"Don't be stubborn, Elena. Pick them up."

He shoved the heavy floral arrangement forward. The weight of the three dozen roses pressed against my forearms.

He turned his head slightly, his jaw rigid.

As a heavyweight wrestler, he only knew how to dominate opponents on the mat. Apologizing wasn't in his playbook; he didn't know how to set down his pride.

"Last night was my fault," Cole muttered.

I stared at the thick green stems wrapped in brown kraft paper.

"You're apologizing?" I asked.

"I said it, didn't I?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I added the five hundred points back," he continued, his tone regaining its familiar arrogance. "You're back at ten thousand."

I kept my hands resting on the table.

"I'll get everything ready tomorrow," he added.

A familiar, arrogant smirk touched the corner of his mouth. It was the exact expression he wore when he planned a surprise. The smug, tender look of a man who thought he was fixing everything.

He was going to propose.

For six years, that was the exact promise I had lived for. Now, the cloying scent of the roses made my throat tighten. Every point he had ever deducted flashed behind my eyes.

"Will we keep playing the points game after we get engaged?" I asked.

Cole frowned. "What?"

"Do I need to earn points to get you to take out the trash?" I challenged. "Or to come home for dinner on time?"

He let out a loud, booming laugh.

Several students at the next table glared at us. He ignored them completely.

"No," Cole replied. "Why would we save points after we're married?"

I traced a cold water droplet on a red petal.

"Then what about Mia?"

His smirk vanished instantly.

"Are the canceled dates going to stop?" I asked, my voice steady. "Will the emergency midnight drives end? Or does her priority status just get a new name once I have a ring on my finger?"

Cole placed his palms flat on the table, leaning into my space.

"Elena, do not ruin a good moment."

"I'm asking a simple question."

"I bought you three dozen imported roses," he argued, his voice tightening. "I gave you the points back. What more do you want from me?"

"I want an honest answer."

A loud pop music ringtone interrupted us.

Cole grabbed his phone. He checked the caller ID, and his rigid posture relaxed immediately.

"Hey," he said into the receiver, his tone shifting into that gentle, coaxing cadence he only reserved for one person. "Don't worry. When have I ever stood you up? I'm walking to the truck right now."

He ended the call and shoved the device into his pocket.

"Mia and I have a go-kart reservation," he stated.

I looked at the roses, then up at his face.

"Right now?" I asked.

"We're late," Cole explained, already stepping away from the table. "She's going to be mad if I don't hurry."

I stood up. My chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.

"Cole, will you always choose her?"

He froze in his tracks. He kept his broad back to me.

"Stop making a fuss," he shot back over his shoulder. "Go buy an umbrella at the convenience store. It's going to rain."

He didn't wait for my response. He pushed through the library exit.

A minute later, the familiar roar of his engine echoed from the parking lot.

I picked up the heavy bouquet. The thick stems dug into my palms.

I walked out of the double glass doors just as the sky ripped open.

Freezing rain hammered the campus. I stepped off the curb, letting the downpour soak through my thin sweater. The chill bit into my skin.

I stood in the middle of the empty asphalt lot.

The brown paper wrapping around the flowers turned into mush. Red petals broke loose, falling to the wet concrete one by one.

A small white envelope slid out from the center of the arrangement.

I caught it right before it hit a puddle.

The card was sealed. I tore the flap open with a wet thumb.

Gold foil letters gleamed against the white cardstock.

*For my little princess Mia, always bright and lovely.*

My stomach twisted.

This was his default florist note. He ordered flowers for her so often that the shop kept it on file. He didn't even bother to change the recipient name when buying his girlfriend an apology bouquet.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. The screen was covered in raindrops. I wiped it on my wet sleeve.

Three new messages from Mia sat on my lock screen.

I opened the chat.

An image loaded—a screenshot of the Scorecard app's administrative server logs. Red circles highlighted a dozen point deductions from the past month.

*Elena, did you think he deducted those points?*

I stared at the glowing screen.

*I logged into his account and did it,* her next text read.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I didn't type anything.

Another message popped up.

*And he only came to make peace today because I told him to. Don't overthink it.*

A harsh, ugly laugh tore out of my throat.

I bent forward, clutching my stomach. The laughter echoed in the empty parking lot.

Six years.

I remembered skipping meals to buy him new wrestling gear. Plus twenty points.

I remembered sitting in the freezing bleachers for four hours while he ignored me to coach Mia. Minus fifty points for complaining about the cold.

I tiptoed around his moods. I swallowed my anger. I treated that stupid app like it dictated my worth.

Mia had been at the controls the entire time.

The roses. The gold foil card. The spreadsheet. The points.

It was all a massive, humiliating joke.

*Sister, I'm giving you more than just point deductions,* her final text read.

I marched over to the green metal trash can by the street lamp.

I shoved the entire bouquet inside. The gold card fluttered down, landing in the muck next to a discarded soda cup.

Water streamed down my chin. I couldn't tell if it was the storm or my own tears.