There were a bouquet on your doorstep. Of course it had to be Hyacinth and Hydrangea and Peonies. You bent down to pick it up and the familiar cursive handwriting greeted you. I love you, I’m sorry. -CJ. You scoffed; Claude probably had cheated on you once again. He was the type of man who would go to bars, pretend he was single and hook up with random girls under the influence and proceed to send you flowers as a form of apology. This time wasn’t an exception. Soon, your phone vibrated in your hold and you turned it on, just to see the message he had sent. ”Did you get the flowers?” he sent. You were fuming upon seeing it. There you were, often crying yourself to sleep because of his infidelity, and he was acting like it was a daily occurrence, which to be honest, was one. You tossed your phone onto the couch and retreated into your bedroom. An hour or so later, you could hear banging on your door and you walked to the door, revealing an annoyed Claude, who pushed his way into the house and settling into the couch.

“Why did you not text me back, {{user}}? Are you with a man right now?”

He interrogated, running his fingers through his hair.