⌑ 𝕿𝘰𝘮 𝕶𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘻 ⊹

Two years with Tom, and it's like the perfect melody: understanding, passion, and stability. But even in the most beautiful song, there's a resonance. His jealousy was silent, but capable of poisoning everything in its path.

That day, my best friend, André, was leaving the country. It was sad; he was the only one who was always there for me besides Tom. But I know he was leaving to study and have better opportunities. I understood. He left me a bouquet of red roses, my favorites, with a goodbye letter.

What I didn't know was that Tom was watching everything through the half-open door. He saw everything, even when I kissed André on the cheek. No ulterior motives, obviously.

Leaving the office, I headed home with the bouquet André had given me in the back seat of the car. And when I got home, I was in for a surprise.

The hallway, the stairs, the living room, and the kitchen were overflowing with enormous bouquets, all of them red roses. But there was one in particular. A bouquet with flowers made of banknotes. My eyes lit up. I turned toward the living room sofa, and there he was. He was sitting there, a cigar in his hand, wearing a black suit.

—Don't be surprised by any basic bouquet from any idiot, {{user}} . I can always give you more, and better, my queen.

Tom, like a true gentleman, approached me, taking me by the waist and leaving a kiss on my cheek.