The Begonia Proved I Wasn't the One

Three years into our marriage, Sean Gibson returns from every field trip with a begonia for me. I am not a plant person, but his influence rubs off on me, and against all odds, they thrive under my care. I asked him once, "Why always begonias? Why not something else?" Sean was pinching back stems. Leaves scattered across the balcony as he replied, "You remind me of them." One day, I am sorting through old boxes at home and find a scrapbook. On the title page sits a single character, B, written in his handwriting. He claims it is just a random scribble, so I don't think much of it. Right before my birthday, he asks what I want. I tell him I want a snow-capped begonia. I say I already mixed the soil and even mapped out the exact spot for it. He freezes for a second, then chuckles and says, "Okay." On my birthday, he forgets again. His phone screen lights up. "Sean, thanks for the snow-capped begonia. So, you didn't forget after all." As I look at the begonias spilling from the balcony all the way into the bedroom, a wave of mixed emotions washes over me. He didn't forget. He just gave it to his ex, whom he broke up with seven years ago. It turns out he never meant I remind him of the flower. He meant I remind him of her. Chapter 1 Two cups of coffee down, and my husband, Sean Gibson, was still nowhere to be seen. He was rarely late. I pulled up my phone, and a text popped in from him. "Something came up. Don't wait for me." His message was as crisp and brief as ever. I canceled our dinner reservation and went home alone. Around 11:00 pm, a fashionably late "Happy Birthday" finally trickled in. Before I could even turn around, Sean headed straight upstairs. My phone buzzed. It was a message from my friend, Yelena Johnson. "Happy birthday, Naomi! Come on, spill! What did Professor Gibson get you this year? Your clueless man finally got a clue…" I stared at the screen for a moment and replied, "It's great. Let's catch up later." I made myself a bowl of instant noodles, ate it, and went upstairs. The motion-sensor light flickered on with a warm glow. I had tripped in the dark once during a late-night bathroom run, so Sean had installed them all over the house. He was taking a shower. The water was humming behind the door. I picked up his blazer tossed by the bed and realized it carried a light trail of fruity perfume. Just then, his phone vibrated, and the screen lit up. "Sean, thanks for the snow-capped begonia. So you didn't forget after all." It was from Bellona Swanson, his ex-girlfriend of seven years. When the shower stopped, I called out to him through the door, "Did you buy the snow-capped begonia today?" "I forgot. I'll get you one next time." "Didn't you stop by the florist?" I asked. Sean walked out while drying his hair with a towel. Water droplets were still clinging to the ends. "No. Why ask?" He sounded perfectly honest, as if that text didn't exist at all. I continued asking, "Was your ex, Bellona, at the class reunion today?" His hands paused on the towel, and his brow furrowed slightly as he countered, "Why were you looking through my phone?" "Ted posted on Instagram saying Bellona was back in town." "Yeah, she was there." His voice was relaxed. I continued, "When Ted and the guys came over last time, they asked if I liked begonias too. It made me wonder who else likes them." Sean didn't answer right away. After a long pause, he finally said, "I'm going on a business trip next week. I'll find time to pick up a snow-capped begonia for you when I'm back." "Don't bother," I replied. An edge of impatience crept into his voice. "It's not like we have class reunions every day. It's been years since we all met up. I just couldn't break away to stop by a shop." "You promised me," I said. "Are you seriously doing this right now? I told you I'd make it up to you later." "It's not about making it up." "Then, what's the issue?" he asked. "So, I didn't get you a plant for your birthday. Have I not bought you enough stuff? How long are you going to keep picking a fight over this?" It wasn't just my birthday. Five years ago today, Sean confessed his feelings to me for the first time, and I said yes. He was so thrilled he stayed up all night. I didn't say another word. The lights went out, and soon his steady breathing settled beside me. Unable to sleep, I took his phone and stepped out of the bedroom. I opened Bellona's Instagram profile. Her latest post was from half an hour ago. It was a photo of a pink-variegated snow-capped begonia. The leaves were a beautiful mix of rich pink hues alternating with apple green. How stunning. The caption read, "Long time no see, snow-capped begonia." Sean hadn't forgotten. He bought one—just not for me. In the photo, a man's hand was lightly brushing the edge of a leaf. His fingers were long and slender, with a faint scar visible on the back of his hand. Back when Sean was helping me in the kitchen, he burned himself by accident. I was sick with worry and spent a whole week treating his skin. Most of Bellona's Instagram was dedicated to begonia care. I zoomed in on the photo and stared at it, again and again. Sean wasn't wearing his wedding ring. I set his phone back where it belonged and spent the rest of the night out on the balcony. "Why are you up so early today?" Sean casually picked up my mug and took a sip. "I couldn't sleep." Morning sunlight spilled into the room. Sean reached over to draw the curtains slightly. "You always overthink things." His usual condescending tone shut down any desire I had to talk. The birthday cake had been sitting on the coffee table for too long. Melting cream trickled down the sides, making it look unappetizing. Thinking back to that snow-capped begonia, I grabbed his gift and shoved it into the deepest corner of the closet. Chapter 2 Sean took a call and stepped out, coming back inside in less than ten minutes. "Mom sent this over. Said it's to help balance your system." I couldn't even count how many times his mother had sent me herbal medicine over the past three years. At first, I resisted, and Sean would hoard candy to coax me into taking it. Over time, drinking it straight became second nature. The herbal stench, potent enough to seep through the packaging, left a bitter taste in my mouth. I didn't drink it, opting instead to stash it straight in the fridge. Around 8:00 pm, I got back home from the restaurant. I tracked his movements as he drank water, waiting a long beat before speaking up. "Sean, where's your ring?" He hadn't worn it once since the class reunion. "It gets in the way during lab work, so I left it at the institute." The answer slipped out effortlessly, without a second's hesitation. "Is that so?" My voice was barely a whisper. He didn't seem to hear it. Whenever Sean ran experiments, his phone was turned off. Earlier this afternoon, the restaurant called our house landline, informing me that his ring had been left there. He didn't even notice that his wedding ring was missing. Meanwhile, the ring meant for his ex was still sitting in our house, seven years after they broke up. Sean bent over to toss some discarded drafts into the trash and said, "I'm heading out for the business trip to Mount Glyndora the day after tomorrow. I'll be back by Friday." Usually, I'd pepper him with endless questions and pack his protective gear and meds the night before. This time, I just stared at the TV screen, asking no questions and offering no help with his packing. "Got it." Sensing that something was off about my quiet reaction, Sean glanced over at me. "All the meds are in the bottom-left drawer under the TV. You can pack your own clothes," I said. "What's wrong with you?" What a rare moment of concern. I replied, "Your parents called me today, asking if I'd gone for my hospital checkup." "And?" Sean prompted me to go on. "It's been three years. Why can't you just tell them that you're the one who doesn't want kids?" "Did they say something to you?" he asked. "No. I'm just tired." "It's just drinking some herbal medicine to balance your system. What's so exhausting about that?" "But I don't want to drink it anymore," I said quietly. "You've been drinking it for this long already." Right, I had been drinking it for so long. How could I possibly be tired? "Sean, if it were Bellona, would you make her drink it?" I asked. That seemed to strike a nerve. Sean's voice spiked a few octaves as he countered, "Naomi Russell, if you don't want to drink it, don't. Why do you have to mention her name?" He rubbed his temples, his tone softening slightly. "Forget it. I don't want to fight with you. I'm sleeping in the guest room tonight." … When I came downstairs the next morning, Sean was in the foyer changing his shoes. "Things came up at the institute." His gaze brushed past me, landing on the begonia out on the balcony. "Temperatures are high today. Remember to close the outer blinds on the south balcony around noon." "Got it," I replied. Just then, his phone on the marble table lit up with a notification. "Sean, let's meet at our usual spot." It was Bellona. The glow of the screen made him smile slightly. "Who's that?" I asked. "Is the lab rushing you?" "Yeah. The project timeline is tight," Sean answered smoothly, without needing a moment to invent an excuse. As the front door clicked shut, the house sank into silence. I went to the study and pulled out the box Sean kept hidden at the very bottom of the cabinet. Inside were letters, photographs, perfectly preserved begonia leaves, and a ring, engraved with BS on the inside. It belonged to Bellona. In the photo, a young lady held a massive bouquet of begonias with a radiant smile. Her face bore a striking resemblance to mine. Almost every photo had their names written on the back in Sean's handwriting. The letters spanned high school and college. Sitting on the floor, I read them one after another. It was a simple love story, following just the two of them. All those plants Sean bought for me were actually meant for Bellona all along. The stack of paper was light, yet it weighed on me so heavily I could barely breathe. I massaged my numb legs briefly and put everything back where it belonged. Chapter 3 Sean didn't come home that night. It was noon the next day when he finally walked through the door, carrying a prism begonia. "The begonias on the balcony are all scorched. Have you even looked at them the past few days?" The moment he got back, he threw himself straight into checking the plants on the balcony. "I don't like them, and I don't want to keep them anymore," I said. "What are you throwing a fit about now?" Sean placed the prism begonia onto the indoor plant stand. I looked at it and asked, "Is that for me?" He avoided my gaze and replied awkwardly, "This… is for someone else. I'll pick one up for you next time I'm passing by." "Did you get it for Bellona?" Sean frowned. "How did you know? She likes them, and it was on my way, so I grabbed one for her. What's the big deal?" "Nothing. I just think you're remarkably good to your ex," I replied. "We've known each other for over a decade. It was just a small favor. Why are you talking so sarcastically?" "I didn't say anything." "Your whole attitude says otherwise," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "She's finally back in town. What's wrong with me buying something to make her happy? Stop making a big deal out of nothing all the time." Sean slammed his glass down hard, knocking over the crystal box in the corner. Shattered glass mixed with spilled water, leaving a complete mess. That was our first-anniversary gift. It broke into pieces, and he didn't even glance at it. "As long as you guys are happy." I didn't want to argue with him anymore, so I got up and went into the bedroom. "Naomi Russell!" His impatient shout rang out behind me. "Have you had enough yet? I worked all night, and I'm exhausted! Can't you just be a little understanding for once?" Understanding. I was too understanding. That was why Sean felt comfortable using me as a stand-in for his ex, leaving me to guard the garden he built for her like a fool. So, this time, I didn't want to be understanding anymore. … I took a long, hard look at the house and slowly stripped away every trace of myself. Under the eaves, the botanical wind chime was still chiming. Sean had hung it up the year he was promoted to associate researcher. Our names were written on it. He had painted them stroke by stroke using waterproof paint. He told me back then that this way, it would never fade. I took down the wind chime, plucked off the leaves with our names written on them one by one, and tossed them into the trash. Just then, a text came in from Sean. "I'm working late. Won't be coming home tonight." In the past, I would have replied instantly, asking what he wanted to eat and how many people were in the lab, before whipping up supper to bring over. This time, I didn't reply, and he didn't send another message. I had bought the armchair in the living room, so I listed it secondhand and had someone haul it away. The vase on the table was mine too, so I gave it to the neighbor downstairs. In just two days, I sold off every item, big or small, that I had brought into this home. Half a suitcase was all it took to pack up my 1,096 days. Sean rarely paid attention to household matters anyway, and he didn't notice a thing out of the ordinary. Instead, he seemed quite pleased with how quiet I'd been, assuming I was being understanding again. With a heavy rain warning issued, I moved the high-perched flowerpots indoors. "See? Wouldn't it have been better if you acted like this earlier?" Sean picked up the cup of warm milk I had set out and sat down at the dining table. "There's a gathering this week. Take a day off and come with me." "Why should I go?" I asked. "Didn't you always complain that I never introduce you to my friends? Bellona happens to be holding an exhibition. She just got back and needs people to show up and support her. You can come along and expand your horizons." The way he framed it made it sound like this opportunity was some generous gift to me. When I used to beg to step into his social circle, he always claimed I wouldn't fit in, that I wouldn't care about the things they talked about, and that I'd just end up sitting there playing on my phone. Now he was taking me along just to pad the headcount and warm up the crowd for his ex. I agreed to go. … On the day of the exhibition, my work didn't wrap up until close to noon. Sean called to rush me. "I'm out in the suburbs. It's hard to catch a cab here," I said. "Naomi, if you don't want to come, just say it." A woman's voice called out beside him, "It's alright. We can wait." Sean replied, "This event is really important for you. She's always dragging her feet. There's no need to waste time waiting for her." His tone was dripping with tenderness and consideration. He ended the call after throwing out one last remark. "If you can't make it, then don't bother." In that fraction of a second, I suddenly really wanted to see what kind of woman Bellona actually was. Chapter 4 The private dining room door was left ajar, so the voices inside carried out just loud enough to hear. A woman's voice sounded, "When I woke up, my phone screen was still lit, showing a call that had lasted over seven hours." "Wow, someone's really spoiled. You two were on the phone all night?" Sean replied, "She's a timid person. When the news reported a research team going missing, she was too worried to sleep, so I had to stay on the line with her." That news broadcast about a missing field team coincided with the timeframe of Sean's trip. Panicked, I called him dozens of times and sent countless messages, but none of them received a response. Swallowing my terror, I rushed to the institute in the middle of the night, only for the security guard to tell me the assignment had been canceled. Sean had stayed on the phone with Bellona for seven hours, yet couldn't spare a few quick words in a text to let me know he was safe. The absolute absurdity of this marriage hit me all at once. I pushed the door open, and the bursts of laughter ground to a sudden halt. Bellona sat right beside Sean, wearing a white dress, which made her look elegant and innocent. Seeing me walk in, she stepped forward warmly. "The exhibition was great." After saying that, I walked straight past her to take a seat, leaving her outstretched hand hanging in the air. Sean's expression darkened. He leaned in close and whispered sharply, "There are a lot of people here today. Behave yourself and don't embarrass me." The moment I sat down, the conversation drifted right back to the exhibition. "Honestly, Sean, that light-and-shadow hallway featuring preserved plant specimens was absolute genius!" "Yeah, he designed that. He pushed back several projects and revised the designs dozens of times." Sean let out a soft chuckle. "It's really not that big of a deal. Just fulfilling a friend's little wish." His face was soft with tenderness. So, the "overtime" he kept talking about was spent granting Bellona's offhand wish. For her, he didn't hesitate to stay up for months grinding out designs and commuting across multiple cities. But for me? All I wanted was a simple dinner together and a plant that couldn't be more ordinary, yet he managed to forget every single time. It wasn't that he didn't know how to be romantic. He just didn't care to put in the effort for me. I took a tiny sip of wine, silently watching the performance unfold. Suddenly, Bellona addressed me. "Naomi, Sean's been so busy lately. Please take good care of the plants back home." I hummed in acknowledgment. "If you don't know how to care for them, I can teach you." I said coldly, "Since you just got back, you should probably focus on your exhibition." As I set my glass down, the thin glass struck the tabletop with a sharp, clear ring. "An outsider like you shouldn't be stressing over what goes on in our home." The smile froze on Bellona's face, and a flicker of embarrassment washed over her. "I-I didn't mean anything by it. I just saw how exhausted Sean was lately, and coming home only to—" Sean slammed his utensils down hard, and his face turned red with rage. "Naomi, that's enough! Can't you speak politely? Everyone's here having a good time, and you just have to ruin the mood." I stood up and smoothed down the folds of my dress. "Sean, since there's someone else who can take care of your plants, you don't need me anymore. I've had my fill. I'm leaving." "Don't you dare walk out that door today," Sean warned. Ignoring him entirely, I pushed open the door, shutting out every bit of noise behind me. Sean was so busy planning events for his ex that he hadn't slept at home for days. Naturally, he had no idea that every trace of me in that house was already gone. My luggage had been shipped out three days ago. Not a single item was left behind. On the desk in the study sat just three things—a ring, a set of keys, and a signed divorce agreement.