Ephemeral Bloom

The scent of plum blossoms clings to the air, a ghost of spring already fading. He sent another message—a simple 'How was your day?'—and my thumb hovers over the screen. A lie is so easy now, a smooth stone skipping across the water.
We built our world in stolen glances and shared silences, didn’t we? Two shadows dancing on the edge of twilight. The city lights blur through the window; each one a life lived fully, brightly—a stark contrast to this quiet ache within me.
He doesn't see how much I carry, not truly. Perhaps it's better that way. A fragile thing, affection. It breaks so easily when exposed to truth.
This silence…it’s a garden overgrown with unspoken words. And in its heart, a single bloom of acceptance begins to open—a pale, delicate flower born from the ashes of what could never be.

Editor: Summer Cicada