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Nene crouched over a flowerbed, observing the blooming flowers in the dirt—roses, petunias, and marigolds.
They seem to be coming along just fine, Nene thought, a tiny smile on her face. The sun peeked over the tiled roof where vines of Ivy ran along the tips of brick walls. Nene slipped her gloves off and wiped the sweat pooling in her forehead with the back of her hand, ready to call it a day.
Before she could retreat into the house and grab a glass of water, she stopped when she heard the car pulling into the driveway. Her heart panged like a dull echo. Maybe she could stay in the garden a little longer and double-check for any weeds she missed that needed pulling.
The front door clicked open, then slammed shut. Once the wind had settled, Nene entered through the back door. Sunlight spilled across the oak countertops, glinting against the shine of the refrigerator, Rui nowhere in sight. She glanced furtively to the staircase and sighed in relief.
Recently, the house had grown quieter—as if moss grew on the windows and the earth had reclaimed its righteous ownership over the lot. Aimless conversations and stolen kisses once lived in these spaces, and now there was only the drifting of wind and the ticking of the clock.
Nene filled a glass from the sink. She stared at her solemn reflection in the water, dirt along the sides of her eye bags.
“Nene?” Rui called, coming down the stairs. Nene startled, clutching the counter, then downed the glass in one go, facing Rui as she coughed. Rui, concerned, asked, “Are you okay?”
“F-Fine,” she replied, quickly washing the glass before placing it back on the drying rack. “You’re home early.” An observation rather than a question.
Nothing passed his expression as he cracked his fingers. “I finished my part of the cleaning early, so I left as soon as I could.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
Rui nodded, gaze drifting to the sink beside her. He was still wearing the brown apron, smelling strongly of coffee. Nene recalled times when she’d greet him at the door eagerly. He would pull her into a tight embrace, and she’d press her face into his chest.
“Nene?” He called her back into the present. “I wanted to ask you if I should cook dinner tonight.”
Nene blinked. “Oh, uh. No, it’s fine. I’ll do it. Thank you for offering, though.”
Rui smiled, yet it wasn’t the same. Maybe it never would be again. As much as Rui tried—and succeeded among others—to hide his emotions, Nene could read him like an open gardening encyclopedia. Even the absence of a reaction said all she needed to know.
I just wish you could say it. Tell me what’s on your mind. Was it that hard? When they told each other everything and anything in between all the little nothings—how did the words, which used to pour with the ease of tilting one’s wrist, clog up as if blocked by shedded leaves?
I still love you—even those simple words weighed heavily on her tongue.
“I’ll go run a bath, then.” Rui stood for a moment, waiting for something. Once he figured that was the end, Rui walked back up the stairs, leaving behind a befuddled and unnerved Nene.
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
It was another late night, Rui lying beside her like an apparition, back facing her. She could touch him, hold him close like those early days, but it was as if her arms would only pass through him. His chest rose and fell softly. He was so close, but Nene had never felt further from him than before.
Turning to the other side, Nene wondered how many more days would pass this silently—if there were some flicker that could restart their snuffed flame. What if it was her fault things became this way? What if she wasn’t doing enough for him, if this distance was something she was only imagining?
Whatever it was, whether her fault or his or nobody’s, it was eating away at her. Rotting their marriage like termites.
The night wore on. Nene fell asleep to the crickets chirping outside, clutching her blanket’s soft heat close in lieu of a person’s.
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
Years ago, when they first moved into the then-pristine, quaint country cottage, the future seemed boundless. An infinite pool of crystalline water.
They had just finished unloading the boxes and were standing by the counters of an unfurnished kitchen. The low hum of air from the open windows filtered in, early sunrise draping the house in its light.
“I found a job at a nearby café,” said Rui while the two were stocking the cabinets with dishware. “Manager. It’ll be enough to cover our expenses on top of your freelancing.”
Nene smiled as she stacked plates on a rack. “That’s good. Will you be out long?”
“It’s from six in the morning till evening, but if it’s a slow day, I can hope to be home before the sun sets.”
Nene looked around the house. The boxes by the staircase, the empty halls to be furnished, the sunlight streaming through the windows and the glass backdoor. “Do you think we’ll live here for the rest of our lives?”
“I don’t see why not.” Rui half-shrugged and closed a cabinet, facing her as he leaned back on the counter. “This is what we wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Nene said, eyes squinting in adoration. “It is.”
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
The memory dissipated into thin wisps the following morning.
Nene awoke to an empty, cold bed. The door was left ajar, as if some reckless thief had come and gone in the same breath. She shook off the covers and traipsed into the dining room—a spirit in her own house.
A plate of eggs and bacon with a mug of coffee on the table. No note.
She grabbed a spoon and fork from the drawer and sat at the table. As she took the first bite, her mind wandered instead to the garden—something that was in her control. Something she could nurture. Something that couldn’t leave without a sign.
Plants and flowers were kind to her—understood her in ways people simply couldn’t. Not by hollow words or meaningless gestures, but through the action of her care. She could water the flowerbeds of roses and know they would stay. There was no fear of being misunderstood or ignored; the flowers always responded in blooming, vivid colors.
When she was finished, she washed the dishes in the sink and promptly left through the back door.
The flowers greeted her, swaying with the cool morning breeze. The sun rose over the forest, light trickling through the gaps of leaves and branches. Nene smiled. “I’ll get to you in a moment,” she said to the flowerbeds. “Let me get my supplies first.”
In her gardening shed, she donned the pair of gloves and grabbed her watering can. She decided today would be a good day. She decided, in her few lone hours, that she would be okay. Just okay.
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
If she had to pinpoint a specific moment where the rot in their marriage began, Nene would point to this:
Rui had come home particularly late without warning—the sun was beginning to dip past the skyline in a blazing orange. Nene had started on dinner a couple of minutes before Rui walked through the door, coat slung over his shoulder.
“Welcome back,” Nene greeted, focusing back on the copping board. “Late closing?”
“Oh, um, yes.” He eyed the dinner Nene was preparing. “The thing is… The team already ate out. I’m a bit full, but—”
Nene paused, turning to him. “N-No, it’s fine if you don’t wanna eat, I’ll—I’ll save yours for tomorrow.” She returned to chopping. “Just tell me next time. Please?”
“Mhm. Of course.” He looked to the staircase, as if already planning an escape route. “I can still eat if you’d like.”
“No, don’t force yourself to… It’s fine.”
And that was the end of the conversation. Rui nodded and walked up the stairs, so Nene continued to cook like nothing ever happened. Maybe he had a bad day. Maybe today was a bad spell, she told herself to make the pain hurt a little less. She continued to blame the awkwardness on factors outside of the house—a bad customer, a slow day, maybe Mercury was in retrograde. Anything but the truth.
Anything but her or him or them.
If she dug deeper, she might find the cracks in the foundation—tangled roots long buried. Might find something that would cement the realization that their relationship might never be the same again.
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
Then again, who could blame her? This wasn’t their first time going through a rough patch—there was that large gap of silence between middle school and junior high. If they could survive that, then this was nothing. She was overthinking everything.
But it’s never been like this; they slipped away then, largely due to a harsh coming-of-age, yet came back together stronger in high school. So what made this so different? Why did it feel like he was slipping away for good?
As Nene finished disposing of the weeds, she glanced at the house, anxiety curling in her stomach like a premonition.
Is this how things will be for the rest of our lives? she thought. Or…
The car pulled into the driveway. The front door opened, then shut.
Nene walked in, and Rui was just about to head upstairs when she called out to him, “Can we talk?”
Rui stopped. Looked at her. “Oh. Sure.” He smiled politely—like a cashier would to a customer—and followed her into the kitchen, the fading orange sunset across the room. “What is it?”
Nene took a breath, holding a hand over her heart. Steady now. No more pretense. Straight to the point. “Where are we going, Rui?”
“Do you mean… if we’re moving?” Rui perked a concerned brow.
“No, not—I mean… in our relationship. Where are we going? I don’t know for how long, but it’s as if you’ve been slipping away for a while now.” Her gaze went downcast, staring intently at the floor as if willing it to open up and swallow her whole. “It feels like it’s my fault things came to this.”
A myriad of emotions fought on his face—some mix of regret, shame, and understanding. He gulped. “It’s not… It’s not your fault, Nene. I’ve also felt as if you were drifting further from me. You’ve stopped greeting me by the door, and you’re always out in your garden.
“When was the last time we did anything together?”
Nene couldn’t remember.
He turned to the window, at the rustling trees and falling leaves outside. “We live in the same house, Nene. We sleep in the same bed. How did we get here?”
The following silence settled heavily between them. Neither of the two dared to look the other in the eye. A storm brewed beneath them, threatening to sweep them away in its torrent.
“I miss you,” Nene admitted. The words escaped before she could stop them.
Rui shut his eyes. “I miss you too.”
The confession should have made her feel better. Instead, it made her chest ache—blade digging in further.
So that was it, then. Wasn’t it? They’ve unearthed the problem and addressed it. So why did it feel as if nothing had changed? If they missed each other so much, then why were they standing here like strangers?
The problem should have been solved by now, yet the love that may once have been there had washed down the drain. Maybe they reached a stagnant point. Maybe it would never be the same.
“Rui, I think we should—”
“—get divorced?” he finished it for her, a solemn smile beneath his weary eyes. “Maybe we should.”
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
Everything aligned perfectly that night; they had just left the theater performing The Little Mermaid. Outside, the dazzling stars speckled against the black sea. The pair, hand in hand, walked in the cold breeze.
The couple had been dating for nearly a decade now—having survived years of college and long-distance. Back then, it felt as if the distance made them stronger. Little did they know how their proximity could ruin them, too.
“I’m surprised you were able to get tickets,” Nene said, pulling on his coat sleeve.
He giggled. “You can thank my fast internet connection for that.”
“Still, they sell out ridiculously fast…” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Rui.”
The wind carried the scent of saltwater. Around them, the city lights shimmered gold against the harbor. As Nene got ready to start walking home, Rui slowed to a stop, pointing to a bed of roses, saying, “Could we stop there for a moment?”
Sensing nothing to suspect—for Rui had his eccentricities at times—Nene nodded, and Rui led her to stand beside the flowers.
It all happened in a flash: A car passed by, Nene’s hair blowing in the wind. The smell of roses surrounded them. Rui got on one knee, velvet box in hand. “Nene, will you—”
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
And she woke up. The alarm clock blared. Empty space beside her. Silence.