As the evening wore on, Dorothy and I eventually grew weary and retired to our respective beds. However, sleep eluded me. My mind couldn't help but wander back to Hayden.

The last I had heard, he was traversing the world, expanding his successful business ventures. I found solace in knowing that he was pursuing his passions. I remained unsure whether he was still with his former secretary or anyone else. It pained me to acknowledge that he had moved on, and it stung even more to reflect on the loss of my baby.

Deep down, I knew Hayden would never have wanted to keep the child. It was just one of the many unfortunate aspects of our relationship. Despite everything, I still loved him. He wasn't my first romantic partner or my first kiss, but he was my first love, my first marriage. I had once believed that he would be my forever, my one and only.

I shake my head, realizing the naivety of my dreams. Every marriage has its flaws, and sometimes those flaws become irreparable. There are moments when I sift through old photographs, reminiscing about the happier times we shared.

I can't deny that I miss him, even though he shattered my heart into countless pieces. I've added new pictures to the album, capturing the precious moments of my baby. Ultrasound images that depict my son's growth. Sometimes I ponder whether it was the right decision to keep my child a secret from Hayden, knowing they will never have the chance to meet.

I doubt it would have changed anything. After all, Hayden doesn't love me. I wasted five years of my life on someone who ultimately broke my heart. But in truth, I've wasted even more years since the day we met and began dating. All those years, gone.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. It was impossible to hold back the flood of emotions that overwhelmed me. All those heartfelt declarations of love, all the affection I poured into our relationship, all of it felt wasted. My love, my life, my dreams, shattered by the actions of one man. I loved him with every fiber of my being. I loved him beyond measure, but he couldn't reciprocate that love. In truth, I'm not sure he loved me at all. I never imagined my life would come to this. When we were married, I played the role of a devoted housewife, while Hayden worked as the provider.

He would always tell me he loved me before leaving for work, and every time he returned home, he would announce his arrival with a cheerful "Honey, I'm home!" I would eagerly rush to him, longing for his presence. And I still do. I yearn for the sensation of running my fingers through his hair, embracing him tightly. I miss his touch and the way he held me in his arms before we slept.

I miss the charming disarray of his hair and the comforting scent of burnt wood that clung to him. I miss how he never failed to remind me of his love, even though I knew it deep down, and how he would surprise me with thoughtful gifts on occasions when his words alone weren't enough.

And I ache for his kisses and the way he uttered my name with a tenderness that made it feel like each time could be our last. I miss him, oh how I miss him. And so, with a heavy heart, I cried myself to sleep, clutching my pillow tightly, desperately attempting to suppress the memories of the person I once loved.

...

I woke up early and prepared breakfast for both Dorothy and myself. Knowing she had the day off, I anticipated her sleeping in, so I made her some toast and eggs and placed them in the fridge. After getting ready for work, I grabbed my keys and drove to the flower shop, making a quick stop at a coffee shop along the way for a cup of steaming coffee.

Upon parking at the flower shop, I entered, greeted by the familiar sound of the ringing bell. "Good morning, Allison," Giselle greeted me. I smiled in return. "Morning. I brought you some coffee," I said, holding up the cup. She eagerly took it, sipping and expressing her satisfaction with a contented hum.

"Today, we have a client coming in for another wedding," Giselle informed me. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. It's not that I hate weddings, considering I had one myself, but some women can be quite demanding when it comes to flower choices and arrangements.

Personally, I wasn't overly particular about the flowers for my own wedding. I chose roses, daisies, gardenias, and daffodils, among others, and knew exactly what I wanted before visiting the flower shop, specifying the quantities I needed.

However, many women who come in tend to expect the best and often request more or express dissatisfaction even when we provide excellent service. I then donned a white apron with the store logo in the corner.

"When are they scheduled to arrive?" I inquired.

"Around one, just an hour before your break. Is that alright?" Giselle confirmed. I nodded in agreement, and together, we began our work. Throughout the morning, several customers entered the shop, with the majority of them being men. Contrary to popular belief, it's often men who purchase flowers, whether for dates, anniversaries, or family occasions.

Women typically come in for weddings, to buy flowers for friends, family, or decorations, as you don't often see women buying roses for men. It was heartwarming to witness couples exploring the shop, reminiscing about Hayden and the times he would buy me flowers for our anniversary or whenever I felt down. He even surprised me with flowers on our very first date. I quickly shook off those thoughts, banishing memories of Hayden and our shared moments from my mind.

A woman entered the shop, striding confidently in a business suit and elegant black pumps. She clutched a phone in one hand, engrossed in texting, while her other hand grasped a fancy black purse. Despite having once been married to wealth, I remained unfamiliar with the world of expensive purses and luxury items. Hayden knew that I despised flaunting wealth, which is why I always opted for casual clothes from affordable stores that suited my style.

It was not the same style the woman embodied. "I'm here for an appointment regarding my wedding," she stated with a firm and assertive tone. Her voice reminded me of how Hayden used to talk to everyone except me, or when our love had faded during our marriage.

"Certainly. Please follow me," I replied, gesturing for her to follow as I led her to our meeting room. We both took a seat around a white table, and Giselle joined us shortly after, sitting next to me.

"Hello, I'm Giselle, and this is one of my employees. I understand you need flowers for your wedding. Do you have any preferences in mind regarding the type and quantity of flowers?" Giselle inquired professionally. The woman nodded, opening a folder and presenting a selection of flowers that seemed oddly familiar.

"I would like these flowers, and I'll need a few thousand of them," she declared. Giselle and I examined the photos. The woman's demands were quite extensive.

"And what colors do you require?" Giselle asked.

The woman replied, "I need them in white, blue, purple, yellow, and orange." Giselle jotted down the details in her notepad.

"Very well. These flowers will come at a significant cost. The total price for them will amount to a few thousand dollars," Giselle stated. The woman simply nodded, unaffected by the price. Giselle made further notes in her pad.

"When would you like the flowers to be ready for pickup?" Giselle asked. The woman paused, contemplating her response.

"I'd like them to be ready in about three weeks, but five weeks at the latest. My wedding is next month, and I want everything to be prepared," she replied. Giselle and I acknowledged her request with a nod.

"Is there anything else?" Giselle inquired. The woman shook her head, and we all rose from our seats, exchanging handshakes. As the woman departed, a sense of relief washed over me.

"That woman is quite intimidating," I confided in Giselle, who nodded in agreement.

"She needs to relax. I hope the man she's marrying matches her temperament, or else I pity him," Giselle remarked. I nodded. The woman didn't seem to exude any joy or lightheartedness, much like Hayden. He always carried an imposing aura that intimidated others.

However, he would reveal his gentle side to me and would laugh freely when away from work or situations that threatened his image as a stern CEO. At times, I wondered if his kindness toward me was merely a façade, if he truly loved me.

"Well, let's ensure we handle the flowers properly and keep them in perfect condition. I must admit, I'm not a fan of weddings," Giselle said as we exited the meeting room. I nodded in agreement. My own wedding was significant but not extravagant. I opted for an outdoor ceremony because I adored nature-inspired weddings. The venue was beautiful, and the candlelight and carefully arranged lighting created a stunning ambiance as darkness fell, captivating everyone present.

I shook my head once again, determined to push away the lingering memories. Glancing at my watch, I realized it was time for my break.

"It's my break now, so I'll be heading out for lunch. See you in an hour," I informed Giselle as I removed my apron, grabbed my bag and keys, and prepared to leave. Driving towards a diner, I called Dorothy to let her know of our lunch plans. Upon arriving, I took a seat at a booth and patiently waited for Dorothy while perusing the menu.

This diner held a special place in our hearts, and we often frequented it during our breaks or days off. As I scanned the menu, my stomach growled in anticipation. Soon enough, Dorothy appeared and settled across from me.

"Hey, how was work?" she asked, opening her menu.

I shrugged, replying, "It was alright. I had a meeting with a woman who was all business and lacked any sense of fun. She's planning a wedding, and the flower arrangements she requested will require significant effort. Giselle and I will do our best to procure and arrange the flowers. But that woman seemed so stern, it's hard to imagine someone wanting to marry her." Dorothy chuckled at my description.

"Was she really that severe?" she inquired.

I nodded, stating, "Not a single smile from her."

Dorothy burst into laughter, exclaiming, "Damn, I feel sorry for the poor guy who's going to marry her." We shared a laugh, both sympathizing with the groom-to-be. We quickly placed our orders and engaged in conversation about our day, discussing our other friends and making plans for our shared day off.

Since it was a Friday, we had a blast in mind—heading to the mall, enjoying a meal together, and possibly catching a movie. After finishing our meal, I took care of the bill, and we bid our farewells. I made my way back to work, finding Giselle attending to a customer upon my return.

"How was your lunch?" she inquired. I shrugged, replying, "It was fine." Giselle nodded, and I resumed my duties, eagerly anticipating the end of my shift.

Upon arriving home, I noticed Dorothy's absence. She was probably out and about, caught up in some mysterious adventure. I exhaled deeply, making my way to the kitchen in search of comfort in the form of ice cream.

The benefits of an empty house included the lack of parental criticism about my diet and my choice of dining room - namely, the living room. Retrieving a small tub of cookie dough ice cream, I migrated to the couch, flicking on the TV and settling down with my frozen treat.

As I indulged in the sweet delicacy, my attention was devoted to my favorite show, The Big Bang Theory. The show always triggered a smile; its witty humor provided a pleasant distraction from reality.

My mind wandered back to the times when I lived with Hayden. The Big Bang Theory was often the backdrop to our evenings, despite his feigned annoyance. Hayden often complained that the show distracted me from his company.

To add salt to the wound, I would teasingly insist that Sheldon was more appealing than he was. Despite his protests, there were times when he would join me, our laughter filling the room as we shared in the amusement of the series. He was never forthright about enjoying it, though; any inquiries were met with grunts and a swift change of subject. His sometimes girlish demeanor brought a certain charm to these shared moments.

My mind began to drift towards melancholy. I pondered if Hayden ever thought about me the way I did about him. Was I ever a significant part of his life? Did he truly love me, want me? I longed to know if he was content now, without me. I questioned if his life was more joyful without my presence, or if he ever felt a pang of longing for me, even if only fleeting. My heart missed him with a constant, aching throb.

Shaking off the encroaching sorrow, I reminded myself not to weep over him today. My indulgence in ice cream morphed from a simple hunger to a mechanism for coping with my melancholy.

My evening was consumed by the antics of The Big Bang Theory and dreams of waking up once again in Hayden's embrace. I glanced down to find the ice cream tub emptied, a whimper of desire escaping my lips. I craved more - more of the sugary comfort that momentarily eased my distress.

Discarding the empty ice cream container, I wondered what to eat next. I was in no mood to cook, and a sweet craving persisted. A brief search around the kitchen rewarded me with some muffins. My taste buds rejoiced as I bit into the sweet pastry. Indeed, I was eating my feelings, but the taste provided a brief respite from the pain.

Having consumed the muffins, I made my way to bed. This time, there were no tears, and I refrained from indulging in thoughts of the man who had shattered my heart. Instead, my thoughts were focused on the forthcoming day as I drifted off to sleep.