It was him who had brought the divorce upon you, him who argued with you over the risks of his work, him who filed for the papers and him who asked you to sign them…

It was him who loved you most.

Your heart ached the first time you had to see him again after the divorce. He had moved to the other side of the city, leaving you with the house you once shared and willingly becoming cooped up in a small flat on the outskirts of society. You had to retrieve a few things that he had taken with him and you wanted back.

It was a surprise for him to see you, having not messaged or called you since he moved away, keeping no contact between you. Grieving the loss of your presence in silence.

In his mind, it was for the best. If the two of you remained married and one day he didn’t return from a mission, you would have to be the one grieving. It was better this way. You could be happy. Or so he thought.

To make things quick and easy, and ignore the hole he had left in your heart that only deepened in his presence, you had brought a list. Like it was your own home, you scurried around, picking up things that you believed belonged to you. An old clock, a blanket you had crocheted years ago, expensive Christmas decor…

Watching you run around and find all the items he had taken to remind himself of you after the move made his heartbeat quicken in alarm, dark eyes widening as you wandered into the living room.

“Not the flowers,” He suddenly stated firmly, though his words held an underlying pleading tone.

What flowers? You glanced around the room, finally spotting a cheap vase standing alone on his coffee table, barely holding together a small bouquet of withering daffodils. Daffodils you had picked for him the morning before he confronted you about the divorce.

“Just not the flowers, {{user}}.”