I didn't know how long I stayed like that. When I finally stepped out, the mirror was completely fogged over. I reached up and wiped a streak through the condensation, and my face appeared.
White. Eyes swollen. Lips drained of color.
I stared at that face for a long time.
Then I walked out and picked up my phone.
A flood of unread messages.
From a coworker: "Girl, what happened?? What's that flower on your social media about?"
A text from a friend: Did you and Valentine get into a fight?
A text from my mom: Sweetie, coming home for dinner next week? I'll make ribs.
I replied to each one.
I'm fine.
We didn't fight.
Yeah, I'll be there Saturday.
When I was done, I opened the photo of that wilting rose and stared at it for a long time.
Then I deleted the post.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number. This time, a call.
I picked up.
"What the hell do you want?" Valentine's voice, raw, like he'd smoked through an entire pack.
I didn't say anything.
"I've been out looking for you for hours. I'm soaked to the bone, you won't pick up, you won't text back. What do you want from me?"
I still didn't say anything.
"Say something."
"Say what?"
He choked on that.