Peeling your eyes open slowly you rub the sleep out of your eyes, your face crusted with mascara stained tears. A silent reminder of your screaming match the night before which left your throat hoarse and your heart aching.

Sighing, your head pounds as you turn over in bed to see his side of the bed empty. Nothing but wrinkled sheets and the faint smell of him left behind.

Unwillingly you drag yourself down to the kitchen to be met with a vibrant bouquet of roses and lillies. Alongside lay a small handwritten note.

"I'm sorry darling, I love you. I promise I'll do better and make it up to you this evening."

Tears race down your cheeks again as a sigh of frustration escapes your lungs. Your eyes glance around the kitchen and living room at the vases scattered around before your bury your face in your hands in defeat. His fourth empty promise this week.