로그인After five years together, my fiancé, Michael Lynham, finally landed a promotion. I went all out. I hand-arranged his favorite champagne roses and spent my last $8,000 on a Rolex. Then his text popped up. [Eunice, work sent me on a last-minute business trip. No need to celebrate.] My heart squeezed. He was working this hard for us. I hit the video call. Declined. [I'm in a meeting. Try to understand.] Then a Porsche rolled up outside my shop. A woman rushed in, fixing her lipstick. "Do you have any ready-made bouquets for a guy? Something cute. I'm celebrating with my boyfriend." She started a video call. Michael picked up instantly. "Michael! I'm almost downstairs. Is our candlelight dinner ready?" "Babe, I skipped a work meeting to cook all your favorites." Their laughter poured through the screen. My stomach dropped. My ears rang. Everything went blurry. I stared at the guy who was supposedly "in a meeting." He wasn't on a business trip. He was spending the night with his new girlfriend. "Hello? Do you have one or not? I'm in a hurry." I swallowed the lump in my throat, turned away, slipped off my engagement ring, and dropped it in the trash. Then I pointed to the bouquet I'd arranged in the corner. "Yeah. That one's ready. 200 bucks."
더 보기Six months later.Eunoire Atelier officially opened in the heart of the city's hottest shopping district.No tacky grand-opening flower arrangements.Instead, I covered the entire storefront in a floating sea of over ten thousand preserved champagne roses.The display blew up online overnight.Dressed in a tailored black silk suit, I stood in the lobby with a glass of champagne in my left hand, chatting with top wedding planners and luxury mall executives who'd come to celebrate.A slim support brace wrapped around my right hand.I couldn't do hours of detailed trimming anymore.But I didn't need to.I was the owner.The chief designer.I created the vision.My senior florists brought it to life.Right after I signed a million-dollar annual floral contract, my phone buzzed.[$1,000,000 received.]Then a message from Christy popped up.I'd added her six months ago and never deleted her number.[Ms. Emerton, that's the full payment for Howell Corp.'s floral services for
"D-Doctor..." Michael stammered, his voice barely coming out. "You're kidding, right? Her hands have always been amazing. She makes the best floral arrangements in the city."How can you say she can never do it again?"Dr. Stafford frowned at the stranger who'd barged in. "Are you family?"I'm not joking. The nerve damage in her hand is severe. She needs to stop working immediately and prepare for surgery."Otherwise, she could permanently lose the use of that hand."Michael stumbled back until he hit the doorframe.His eyes dropped to my right hand.To the tiny scar he'd never even noticed.I got it years ago while buying cuff links for his interview shirt at a flea market.A loose piece of wire pierced my hand at a cheap stall.To save money on a doctor, I pulled it out myself with nail clippers.The wound got infected.The scar stayed.That was the price I paid to help build his future.And now it was costing me the dream I'd spent my whole life chasing."It was me...
I thought humiliating Michael in the rain would finally get him out of my life.I was wrong.Two weeks later, fate threw us together again in the last way I wanted.That afternoon, I skipped the warehouse and went to the city's orthopedic hospital.For the past two weeks, my right thumb and index finger had been cramping more and more.Sometimes, I couldn't even grip a basic pair of pruning shears.At first, I blamed overwork.Then that morning, my right hand suddenly gave out while I was pouring hot water.The cup crashed to the floor, scalding water splashing everywhere.The exam room reeked of disinfectant.Dr. Stafford studied my MRI and nerve test results, his brow tightening."Why did you wait so long to get this checked?"My heart dropped."Is it that bad?"He sighed, clipped the scans to the lightbox, and pointed near the base of my thumb."The nerves and tendons here have permanent damage. There's atrophy and scar tissue."Based on the scar, you had a deep punc
I set down the inventory sheet and stepped out from behind the workbench.Then I stopped in front of Michael and picked up the cream coat he'd been guarding like it was all he had left.The cashmere was unbelievably soft. Warm, too.Three years ago, on that freezing winter night, if he'd wrapped it around my shoulders after another brutal shift, I might've been moved enough to keep breaking my back for him another five years.But now?He was too late.Hope flashed in Michael's eyes.He thought I was finally giving in.I let go.The thousand-dollar cream coat floated down and landed in a filthy puddle of muddy water and rotting leaves.The cream cashmere stained instantly.Michael's eyes went wide."No!"He lunged for it.Too slow.I raised my waterproof boot and stomped down.Mud squished beneath my boot as I ground the coat deeper into the muck.His precious proof of sincerity disappeared under dirty water and rotting leaves.The warehouse went dead silent.Only rai






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