CHAPTER 5- SUNFLOWERS

Friday afternoon passed uneventfully after giving Isaac his clothes until MJ sent me a text. It was an invitation to a freshers' hangout that friday evening. I wasn't in the mood for socializing, so I declined without much thought. Sleep seemed far more appealing than forcing myself to smile at strangers or make small talk.

What I didn't expect was the sting her message left behind. She had added, almost as an afterthought, "Isaac will be there." after seeing the part about Isaac going, if i ever thought of going (Ps. the thought never crossed my mind) that last part sealed the deal about me not going. Contrary to everyone opinion about wanting to be close to Isaac, talking to Isaac just reminds me of Matthew and that is one memory that I want to forget.

That night, I stayed home, buried under my blanket, and drifted off, blocking out the world. I ignored the freshers' after-party and all the chaos that came with it.

The next morning, I woke to a storm. Not outside, but on my phone. It buzzed relentlessly, pulling me from my peaceful slumber. I refused to check it at first, letting the noise fade into the background. Frustrated, I eventually silenced it completely, activating Do Not Disturb. Peace returned, and I succumbed to sleep again.

When I finally woke mid-afternoon, my head felt clearer. After a quick lunch and a shower, I settled into the day, considering a movie to pass the time. But curiosity got the better of me. Why had my phone been buzzing so much?

Opening my messages, I was greeted with chaos. MJ had called me twenty-eight times. She'd sent fifteen texts, all variations of the same frantic question:

"What happened between you and Isaac?"

"Why was he asking about you at the party?"

"Why is he so curious about you and why you didn't show up?"

"Are you two okay?"

My heart sank. Each message was a dagger of confusion and dread. Why on earth was Isaac asking about me? Of all things, why would he talk to others about my absence?

Panicked, I typed a quick response to MJ:

"I don't know what you're talking about. Please help me clear up whatever he's asking. I would really like it if you could kill any rumours that might spread"

MJ agreed but on one condition. "You need to tell me everything, though. Why is he even asking about you?"

I didn't argue. I needed her help to untangle this mess, so I promised to explain later.

By Sunday, I thought the storm had passed. But as I relaxed in my hostel, a text appeared on my screen:

"Come outside. Now."

My stomach twisted into knots. It wasn't from MJ.

I received a text that sent a jolt through my system.

"Come outside. Now."

It wasn't from MJ. The number was unfamiliar, but something about it felt urgent. For a moment, I thought it might be Matthew, the only person unpredictable enough to pull a stunt like this. Fuming, I threw on some clothes and stormed outside, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

But it wasn't Matthew.

It was Isaac.

I froze mid-step, the words I'd prepared dying on my lips. Our eyes met, and a sudden surge of panic gripped me. Without thinking, I turned on my heel, intent on retreating to the safety of my hostel.

I didn't get far. His hand caught mine just as I reached the front entrance.

"Why do you keep running from me?" he demanded, his voice laced with frustration. "What did I do?"

I wrenched my arm, but his grip held firm. "I have nothing to say to you. Let go."

He didn't. Instead, his eyes softened, though his determination remained. "We need to talk. I've been asking around, trying to understand what's going on, but no one will tell me anything. Last night didn't give me the answers I needed, so I came to you directly. Why are you like this? Why do you treat me like I've wronged you?"

I turned to face him fully, anger bubbling to the surface. "Do you like flowers?"

He blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt question. "What?"

"Flowers," I repeated. "Do you like them?"

Confusion painted his face. "I… I don't know. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Fine," I said coolly. "Let me rephrase. If you had to choose between a jar of roses and a jar of sunflowers, which would you pick?"

He hesitated, as if trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind my words. "The roses, I guess."

"Which would you pick to give someone you love?" I pressed.

"The roses," he said again, his voice uncertain now.

"And in a general sense?"

"The roses," he repeated, now visibly frustrated. "What's your point?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Then here's my answer: Go back to your life. Stay away from me. Don't talk to me, and stop asking people about me. I just want to live in peace. Please, don't deny me that."

"Why are you saying this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I have nothing to do with you," I snapped. "We're not friends. We've met a few times, and yes, I wronged you. I stained your shirt with coffee. I apologized. I thought we'd moved on, but if you're still holding onto that, fine. Do you want money? I'll give you all I have. Do you want me to grovel? I'll do it. But stop this—whatever this is. Stay the hell away from me."

I stepped back, my voice trembling as I finished. "Roses was the right choice, so if you could please let me be."

And with that, I turned and walked away, But then I stopped mid-way took a steadying breath, trying to contain the anger that boiled within me. Turning back to Isaac, I met his confused gaze with cold determination.

"I know you happen to know where I stay," I began, my voice sharp, "because of how you followed me the last time to get your clothes. But let me make this clear—let it be the last time you step foot into my hostel uninvited."

He opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand, cutting him off.

"The next time you pull something like this—impromptu calls or showing up out of nowhere—I won't answer you. You'll be left standing outside alone. Do I make myself clear?"

The words tasted bitter, but I forced them out, letting the heat of my anger fuel my resolve. Without waiting for his reply, I stormed off, leaving him standing in the same spot. My steps were heavy with frustration, my chest tight with the hope that this would be the end of it.

As I reached the safety of my room, I leaned against the closed door and exhaled deeply. All I could do now was pray. Pray that Monday would bring the calmness I so desperately needed—a day free of stares, whispers, and rumors. A day where I wouldn't feel smaller than I already did.

As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, already feeling down in the dumps. My thoughts swirled like a storm, relentless and exhausting. I just wanted peace, a moment to escape the weight of everything.

Then my phone buzzed.

I hesitated before picking it up, expecting some leftover drama from Angel or worse—more questions from Isaac. Instead, it was a message from him.

"I don't know what that question about flowers was about or where it came from," it began. "But personally, I know roses are elegant and attractive. Still, sunflowers are the opposite of roses, and that's what makes them special."

I frowned, curiosity pulling me deeper as I continued to read.

"Sunflowers are sunny and fun and attractive, and it's never tiring to look at. They are the kind that shine with the brightness of their characteristics—the bright yellow burning images of a bright sun into your eyes. They remind you of sunny days, happy moments, and fun times. Sunflowers are beautiful in their own way. Roses are beautiful, but that doesn't make Sunflowers any less special."

His words painted a vivid picture in my mind, and I found myself gripping the phone tighter as I read the final lines.

"I hope that answers your question, because this is my honest opinion about flowers, even though I don't know what they mean."

For a moment, my breath caught. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt something stir—a warmth I hadn't expected. His response wasn't just an answer. It was thoughtful, layered, and far more profound than I'd anticipated.

I stared at the screen, rereading the message as if it might change or reveal more. A part of me wanted to dismiss it, to push it aside and hold onto the wall I'd built between us. But another part—the quieter, more vulnerable part—couldn't ignore the sincerity in his words.