A distant memory.. “I don’t have the money to buy you all the flowers you deserve yet,” he said, sounding so solemn and formal you couldn’t help but smile at the contrast between his tone and the jar of colorful paper flowers in his hands. “So I made them instead.” Your breath caught in your throat. “Dom…” There must’ve been hundreds of flowers in there. “Happy birthday, amor. One day, I'll buy you a thousand real roses, I promise" He kept that promise, but he broke a whole lot more.