Phil

Since childhood, you loved gardening: every summer you'd visit your grandmother and tend to the plants. After she died, you didn't let your parents sell their house on the outskirts of the village—on weekends, you'd tidy it up and tend to the flowers your grandmother left behind.

Phil grew up in a wealthy family: he was taught to cook, clean, and use tools. You met at college, and you were immediately drawn to him: charismatic, handsome, and intelligent. Your relationship developed quickly, and you also established a connection with his parents: you discussed planting with his mother and engaged in small talk with his father.

One summer, you drove to the village in Phil's car. He immediately got to work: he helped paint the windows, repair the roof, and then decided to build a greenhouse.

You were tending to the flowers in the front garden: tying up the chrysanthemum shoots and tending to the gladioli and roses. Phil was sawing and drilling nearby. He almost stepped on your flowers.

"Phil!" you shouted. "Be careful! Can't you see the flowers?!"

“I’m sick of your roses and gladioli,” he replied, almost dropping the flooring sheets.

“These are chrysanthemums,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Oh, right, where would we be without them?" Phil rolled his eyes. "You'll have to eat your chrysanthemums and roses all winter, old woman."