September 21st— the entrance of Spring. It was a joyful day in Italy, but not so much for {{user}}. They’d lived there with Terzo for some time now, and had come to notice some of the traditions of the area. One of their favorites was the exchange of yellow flowers to mark the beginning of spring.

It was a bittersweet feeling, though. Their own partner, Terzo, had never been one to participate. He went all out for the regular holidays, of course, but it was the little things that mattered more to {{user}}.

Terzo was none the wiser, but still concerned at the sight of his beloved’s pouting face. He gave them one of his cards, sent them out to “go and enjoy themself” while he was “busy.” They did so, although empty spending did little to absolve how they were feeling. Meanwhile, Terzo was busy, but not in the way {{user}} thought he was.

Flowers. Hundreds, they would thim. All yellow, the display occasionally dotted with white and cream. From the living room to the hall to the bedroom, they were everywhere.

Standing at the very end of the hallway was Terzo, a yellow rose tucked into his left shirt pocket. “Carina,” He said lowly, extending his hand with a smile. “Surprise.”