Page 3 of Insatiable

Katie, my friend and employee at the flower shop, stepped in around noon. Her eyes scanned me as they always did, but today there was something extra in her gaze. She paused, her expression softening before a small smile tugged at her lips. “This dress,” she said, motioning to my plum-colored outfit, “really enhances the brown in your eyes. And your hair—it’s darker against the color. You look good, Rose.”

I tried to shrug it off, but her words stuck, a rare compliment that felt almost foreign these days. “Thanks,” I mumbled, tugging at the fabric that still felt too tight, but I appreciated the effort.

Katie’s smile lingered, her eyes gentle as she asked, “You alright?”

I forced a smile, the same one I had been giving everyone lately. “Just tired. One of those days, you know?”

She tilted her head, her lips pursing as if she were about to say something more, but instead, she nodded. “I’m here if you need to talk,” she said quietly, her eyes holding mine for a second longer before she let it go.

I nodded back, grateful she didn’t push. I didn’t have the energy for a heart-to-heart, not today. Not when I was on the edge of falling apart.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, a steady stream of customers who all seemed to blend together—some browsing, some picking up orders, some rushing in last-minute for bouquets they probably forgot to order in advance. Faces came and went, but I was on autopilot.

Katie stayed busy too, chatting with a woman about wedding flowers, flipping through sample arrangement books. I could hear their voices, but they sounded far away. I was there, but I wasn’t really there. I kept my head down, my hands working, focusing on the flowers because if I stopped—if I let myself think—I knew the tightness in my chest would return, stronger.

The doorbell chimed as customers came in and out. An older man shuffled in, looking lost, and asked for help finding the right flowers for his wife’s birthday. I helped him pick out the perfect roses, ones with deep, velvety petals, and wrapped them up for him. His eyes softened as he took the bouquet from me, like he could already picture the look on her face when she saw them.

Next, a young boy, maybe sixteen with flushed cheeks, came in and asked for daisies. He picked at his nails while I tied the ribbon around the flowers. I could tell by the way his eyes flicked to the door that these daisies weren’t just for anyone.He grinned when I handed them to him, rushing out like he couldn’t get to whoever was waiting fast enough.

Usually, I’d cherish moments like that, to let them remind me why I loved this work. But today, I felt like I was underwater, just going through the motions. No matter how many bouquets I arranged or how many times I inhaled the sweet smell of fresh flowers, the ache inside me wouldn’t go away. It just sat there, refusing to budge. Refusing to let me move on.

Chapter Two

I had been on autopilot all day. No matter how many customers I served or flowers I arranged, my mind seemed miles away. By the time the shop emptied, my hands throbbed from the work, but my mind was even more worn.

I looked around the quiet shop. The flowers were bright and lively, but they clashed with the dull cloud in my mind. The scent of roses and lilies lingered, a sweetness I couldn’t connect with. I sank into the worn leather chair behind the counter, rubbing my temples as tension built.

It wasn’t just him. No, someone else had betrayed me too. The bitterness rose as I thought of her, how easily she slipped into my life. She smiled, while tearing down everything I had built. My anger wasn’t just for Phoenix; It was for her—the one who had destroyed it all with a smile, with no guilt.

I sighed and stood up, grabbing my coat from the hook. The familiar weight of it on my shoulders brought me a bit of comfort. When I stepped outside, the cool autumn air hit me. The breeze brought some relief from the day’s heat.

I pulled my coat tighter, feeling the chill settle into my bones. The streets were slick from the rain, the street lights reflecting off the wet pavement. My car sat a few blocks away, a reminder of the freedom I lost when Phoenix left—and when she wormed her way into my life.

Tonight was therapy. Dr. Mitchell had been a lifeline for months, guiding me through the wreckage of my life. But no amount of advice could erase the anger simmering inside me. This wasn’t just about him; It was about her. She had watched, waited, and taken everything when the moment was right.

I took a deep breath, preparing for the session. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I didn’t need distractions right now.

The drive to the therapist’s office was quiet. The hum of the engine was the only sound, blending with my swirling thoughts. The streets were nearly empty, with just a few people here and there. I knew these roads well; they led me to a place I had come to trust.

Dr. Mitchell’s office sat in a calm part of town. The building was small, with large windows that let in natural light during the day. Tonight, the lights inside were soft and warm, inviting. I parked and took a moment to gather myself before heading in..

The waiting room was simple, featuring comfortable chairs and calming artwork on the walls. I approached the reception desk. The receptionist smiled warmly. “Good evening, Rose. Dr. Mitchell will see you shortly.”

I nodded and took a seat, the fabric of the chair cool against my skin. As the minutes stretched on, anxiety built in my chest. Finally, Dr. Mitchell appeared. She welcomed me with her usual calm, her presence steady.

She led me to her office, a cozy space filled with books and soft furniture. The window offered a view of the dark streets, with city lights shining like distant stars. Dr. Mitchell motioned for me to sit across from her, her eyes kind.

“Good evening, Rose,” she said gently. “How are you feeling today?”

I hesitated, taking a breath. “Tired. And... angry.”

She nodded. “I understand. You’ve been through a lot. Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

I looked down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. “It’s not just Phoenix,” I admitted. “It’s her. The one who came between us.”

Dr. Mitchell leaned in slightly, listening closely. “It sounds like the betrayal runs deeper because it wasn’t just him.”

My jaw clenched. “Exactly. She knew what she was doing. She didn’t care about the damage or about me. I let her in, and she destroyed everything.”

---