Chapter 2 #2
I rise slowly, all too aware of how far I’ve strayed from the picture-perfect woman he wants me to be in front of his bosses. That woman wouldn’t even think about crouching down in an evening gown to rescue a dying plant. I slip the shears back into my clutch before I brush a hand down my dress.
“I’m sorry. I just needed a moment.”
Not that I thought he’d notice I’d be gone, since he was too busy being a brown-noser. Derek stops in front of me, his shoulders squared and his jaw set so tight I’m sure he could crack a molar.
“You’re supposed to be by my side.” His face contorts with disgust as he gestures toward the plant with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Not playing gardener in the middle of an important night for my career.”
I blink up at him before eyeing the plant. “It’s dying. No one has cared for it in—”
“It’s just a plant,” he says incredulously. “It’s decoration.”
I return my gaze to him. “Much like I am to you, it seems.”
I instantly regret the words. They’re not untrue, but I hadn’t meant to say them out loud. Silence blooms between us as Derek stares at me, clearly caught off guard at my words. I rarely stand up for myself, but it felt good to do it.
“That’s not true.”
But it is.
It hits me suddenly, like a fog curling over everything I thought was real.
Lately, Derek hasn’t seen me. Not like he used to.
He parades me around like a trophy wife-in-training, who’s supposed to be polished and silent, someone who can help make him look good in front of his bosses.
I’ve turned into nothing more than an accessory to his ambition.
It wasn’t always like this with us. When I first met Derek, he noticed everything about me. How I talked to my plants like they were people. How I counted floor tiles when I was anxious in crowds. How I liked lemon in my tea.
Back then, he used to bring me little succulents to every date.
Tiny green offerings that made me feel understood.
He’d take my hand in rooms like this and whisper our agreed-on exit phrase when he could see my chest starting to rise too fast. He used to be the calm in my chaos.
Then, somewhere between the proposal and his latest promotion, that version of Derek faded.
And slowly, almost quietly, I began to wilt, much like my abandoned plant friend here.
I look at him now—really look at him. At his expensive suit, the practiced smile glued to his face, how his eyes scan the crowd even now, as if I’m just a blur at the edge of his vision. I wonder how long we’ve both been pretending we’re still in love with each other.
“No?” I take a breath, and it scrapes against my ribs. “Because it’s starting to feel like it’s my job to smile at the right moments, wear the perfect dresses, and stay polished enough to make you look good.”
His jaw works as he tries to bite back a reaction. “Maxinne, this is important. This event matters to me.”
“And I don’t?”
He doesn’t answer. The pothos’ wilted leaves catch my eye again. I reach out, gently untangling a vine with my fingers to help prove a point.
“Some things need a little attention, Derek,” I add. “That’s all. A little care. A little patience. Otherwise, they just…fade.”
His expression softens for the briefest second, and there’s a flicker of the old Derek, breaking through the surface like a ripple in still water.
But before I can reach for that version of him, someone calls his name from across the room.
I watch as he slips his mask back on, like he always does.
The softness vanishes and is replaced by a charmed and poised performance.
I remind myself this is his night. The one he’s been working toward, stressing over, and has been building his whole image around.
Even with all my painful doubts, I still care enough to not be the reason it falls apart.
So I swallow everything I wish I could say, every question, every ache, and lift my chin.
“Let’s go.” I force my voice to sound calm as I brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve got people to impress.”
“There you two are. Derek, Mr. Callahan was looking for you,” a woman announces, cutting off whatever he was about to say, and for once, I’m grateful. I don’t think I could survive hearing him thank me for understanding.
Derek reaches for my hand, but I pretend to adjust my clutch instead. As we walk back toward the party, I glance over my shoulder at the pothos one last time. It’s still wilted but a little lighter, and I wonder which one of us really needed saving.