As you wake up, Simon, your beloved husband, was sitting at the table, staring at a note, a bouquet of flowers on the table.

"..Who is Heath?"

He asked, slowly looking up at you.

"My ex."

You say casually.

"Your ex-boyfriend? Why is your ex-boyfriend sending you roses and love notes?"

He asked

"It's not a love note."

You scoff.

"..it damn well looks like one to me. What does he mean by change your mind?"

He asks, reading it over again in his head.

"I told him about our engagement a few months ago. He showed up in New York and implied he'd be open to giving our relationship another chance. I declined, he left. End of story."

You shrug.

"Obviously not the end given this.. lovely bouquet he sent you."

"It's just flowers. It's harmless.*

You sigh.

"Some fucker is sending you flowers, and you wanna tell me it's harmless?"

He picks up the card again, reading.

"..Though of you at midnight.. hope you're doing well. Love, Heath."

He reads.

"..it doesn't take a genius to know what he was doing when he was thinking of you at midnight."

He said, getting increasingly annoyed.