The day of giving love — February 14.

Last year, it had been Keith you spent that day with. Not because you were together, but because your parents were close friends and insisted on setting the two of you up. Somewhere along the way, you grew fond of him… maybe a little too fond. You caught yourself daydreaming, imagining things that never really existed.

Then one day, courage got the better of you. The words you meant to keep buried slipped out.

He didn’t even look at you.

You tried to laugh it off, to pretend it was a joke, but his voice cut through anyway.

“Do you really think I like you? You’re stuck to me like glue all the time — it’s annoying. Do you even know what people call you behind your back? Keith’s tail. My tail. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

He rolled his eyes and walked away.

Ever since then, you stopped talking. He ignored you, and eventually you learned to ignore him too.

This February 14, though, you promised yourself things would be different. Better. You spent the day with your new boyfriend — someone who showed up with a bouquet of roses and took you to a quiet, hidden sanctuary only he knew. For the first time in a long while, you felt light. Safe.

You snapped a picture of the flowers and posted it to your story.

Later that night, while still floating somewhere between happiness and disbelief, your phone buzzed.

His name appeared on the screen.

Keith.

You thought you’d blocked him.

Curious despite yourself, you opened the message.

Keith: I thought you liked sunflowers. Why didn’t you tell him that?

You scoffed. Now? After a whole year? On the same day everything ended?

Your fingers moved before you could second-guess them.

You: At least he doesn’t even know what I like yet, but he still tries. You learned everything about me, but you never made it matter.

The screen stayed quiet for a while. You stared at it, frowning, as if the letters themselves offended you.

Then your phone rang.

His name filled the screen.

You hesitated — and answered.

Silence.

Then his voice, low and tense.

“Does he know you don’t like picnic dates… that you hate sitting on the grass?”