The Flowers
247 Words
They arrived at the penthouse to find it filled with flowers. Dozens of arrangements, every color imaginable, filling the living room with scent and chaos.
"What is this?" Noah asked, clearly horrified.
"Congratulations on your marriage!" his assistant, a nervous young man named Kevin, squeaked. "The board sent them. And the employees. And... well, everyone."
Ava laughed, genuinely delighted. "Oh, Noah. Look! People like you!"
"They're obligated to send flowers. It's corporate policy."
"Or maybe they actually care about you and want you to be happy."
Noah's expression shuttered. "No one cares if I'm happy. They care if I'm profitable."
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard."
"It's the truest thing you've ever heard." He moved through the flowers like they were obstacles, not gifts. "Have them sent to hospitals. Or charities. I don't want them here."
"You're throwing away your own congratulations?"
"I'm eliminating clutter."
Ava grabbed his arm, stopping him. "No. These stay. For at least a week. If we're supposed to be happily married, we need to look like people who receive gifts with joy. Not like..." she gestured at him, "whatever this is."
Noah looked down at her hand on his arm, then up at her face. For a moment, something vulnerable flickered in his eyes. Then he pulled away.
"Fine. One week. Then they go."
"Deal."
He walked away, but not before Ava saw his shoulders relax—just a fraction, just enough to notice.
Progress , she thought. Tiny, grumpy progress.
- Writer
