Destruction, loss of senses and utter confusion. Senses overtaken by momentary joy before they reset, each thought and cell finding their spots in a revelation — none of this was supposed to happen and all of it was utterly out of {{user}}’s control.

Then majority of people’s lives are shaped and moulded by their actions, words and choices, patterns of behaviours. But people often seem to lack the comprehension of how it affects others.

John didn’t lack that skill. Comprehension.

His spouse often liked to assume that there were reasonable excuses for why certain things happened in their lives or why the man never spoke about his job beyond just : ”I’m in the military.”

Seeds of doubt, planted with the hands of a gardener ( John often lies his partner — after all, they are his flower to grow and he is the perfect gardener ). ㅤ

But this was different, {{user}} has come to realise. They didn’t know about his involvement in the death of a General, didn’t know his secrets and what the job brought. Yet, there were dark roots of infidelity finding home in their mind.

How else would one explain such drastic changes in a person? Especially someone like John? ( The dog has died and the gardener’s hands are tainted with blood. )

But the thought was quickly shut down the very moment John had found out, merely brushing his behaviour off as an issue at work. And next thing {{user}} knew was that they were packing their bags.

Stuffing, shuffling and packing — a trip that John had planned for the two of them to get away and finally be with one another without phones, without electronics.

A lie. A disguise that his flower was clueless of. But flowers adapt and grow, don’t they? ㅤ

It seemed to only click when they watched John throw his phone out a slightly open window of the private plane when it hit them. A sudden trip, without tracking devices brought with them.

“John,” soft hues of John’s spouse shifted to the window, transfixed, the phone now long gone, “what have you done? John— what did you do?”