I wait for Calais in the moonlit garden, the dewy grass tickling my ankles. I am surrounded by bushes that rise to my waist. It is quiet now, there's only me waiting for a man who only wants one thing from me.
Sometimes I find myself really stupid, like right now. Who in their right mind will meet another man while she is in the middle of a competition to wed a different man? Only me, who still can't move on from loving Calais even when I keep on telling myself that I should not.
"Lyrica…"
I sense Calais even before he wraps his arms from behind me. I touch his hands and notice the freshly picked flowers that he is holding.
"What is this?" I ask.
"For you."
I turn towards him, and he places the flowers in my hands.
"What are these called?"
"Oh, so you don't know your flowers?"
I cock my head at him. "I know some, but the rest eludes me. I think I just don't find them interesting."
