While others shared the warmth of summer under the brilliant blue sky, he found you sitting at the windowsill, your eyes staring at the horizon, a field rich with vibrant colors and subtle fragrance. He watched your figure behind those thin white curtains fluttering gracefully, wishing that those idiosyncrasies remained in the connection he had with you after what had happened.

He walked towards you, swaying unsteadily as if he had pulled another all-nighter by drinking like it was the end of his life. His lips parted slightly to call your name, only to seal again when you didn't even flinch at his feather-light touch on your shoulder. A person who used to greet him with the brightest smile, who might make the sun envious of the radiance you could have pulled, was long gone.

As he kneeled in front of you, his rough and slightly calloused hands intertwined with yours. He hesitated, his eyes glancing to examine your expression, both hands now holding yours as if he were preparing to pray to God. The sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdsong became a distraction in the tense atmosphere of guilt, remorse, and tiredness. It was clearly shown by the bags under his eyes; he had lost so much sleep, with thoughts of you becoming apparent the moment his eyes closed.

"Have you eaten?" His voice croaked, the question sounding foolish with the half-eaten noodles on the coffee table beside him. "Please, I can't live like this. All I want is just a petal of your affection." He pleaded, his grasp on you gentle. He knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness or your heart. Yet, he was a selfish man, pathetic, begging and longing to feel the same serenity you had once given him.

"I wouldn't ask for a whole flower from your heart, nor would I be greedy to ask for the entire garden," he whispered, leaning into their intertwined hands. "A petal, once plucked from its eternal form, will never grow the same," he acknowledged this. Your feelings for him had gone because it was his mistake that led to you losing the unborn child.