If before, on the same date I decided to wear a cream-colored dress, the color Jiro loves most on me; this time I donned a short black dress to signify my mourning, for the life I lost and the love that deceived me.
"Jiro," I opened the door, and there he was, still as mesmerizing as he always had been.
As expected, he has a bouquet of tulips on his hand.
I tried to plaster a smile on my face though in truth the anger I felt at the moment has exceeded even my own expectations.
There are so many things I would rather say than the lines, "Are those for me?"
"Yes," Jiro said without a hint in his voice as to what he means.
I wonder if Jiro can see how much I despise him, I wonder why he even bothered to give me flowers when I was nothing to him, nothing but the silly girl who foolishl
