Chapter Six

SOLANA

When I wake up, the sun is already high, casting soft golden light across the bedroom. My limbs feel heavy, my mind foggy from exhaustion. I blink at the ceiling, momentarily disoriented, before shifting onto my side.

The bed beside me is empty.

I push up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Tyler’s gone.

For a second, panic grips me—did I sleep too late? Did he get angry and leave? But there’s no tension lingering in the air, no shattered glass or raised voices. The apartment is eerily calm.

I slide out of bed, the cool floor sending a shiver up my spine as I pad toward the bedroom door. The apartment is quiet, no sounds of Tyler moving around, no music, no television.

But the moment I step into the living room, I freeze.

Flowers.

Dozens and dozens of them.

Bouquets in every color imaginable cover the coffee table, the countertops, even the floor in some places. Red roses, white lilies, soft pink peonies. The air is thick with their scent—sweet, overwhelming.

And in the center of it all, a small round cake sits on the dining table, a delicate Happy Anniversary written in perfect cursive icing. Next to it, a few wrapped presents, neatly arranged with shiny ribbons.

I blink.

Today is—

Oh, Gosh.

Our anniversary.

My stomach twists painfully.

I forgot.

I press a hand to my forehead, guilt curling deep inside my chest. How could I forget?

Today marks three years. Three years since the night he asked me to be his girlfriend at the homecoming dance, under the fairy lights, with that soft, boyish smile I used to love.

I feel sick.

A door clicks open behind me.

I turn just as Tyler steps inside, a takeaway coffee cup in one hand and a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

“There she is,” he says smoothly, setting the coffee on the counter. “Finally awake.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

He strides toward me, effortlessly confident, his hands sliding onto my waist as he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

I swallow hard. “Tyler… I—I forgot.”

His grip on me tightens just slightly, but his smile doesn’t waver.

“I know.”

The words send a chill down my spine.

“But it’s okay,” he continues, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve been busy. Stressed. I figured I’d take care of things this year.”

He gestures toward the flowers, the cake, the gifts. “I wanted to make today special for you.”

I feel like I should say something—thank you, I’m sorry, I love you—but my throat is too tight.

Instead, I let him guide me toward the table, let him sit me down, let him push the coffee into my hands like I’m some delicate thing that needs him.

“Do you like it?” he asks, eyes scanning my face, searching for something.

I nod quickly, forcing a smile. “It’s beautiful.”

His smirk widens. “Good.”

He reaches for a knife, slicing into the cake, humming under his breath.

“You remember what you said last year?” he asks suddenly, placing a perfect slice onto a plate.

I shake my head.

“You said that next year, we should do something big. A trip, maybe.” His gaze flickers to mine as he pushes the plate toward me. “You wanted to go to Paris.”

The memory comes back in pieces. Late at night, curled up on the couch, laughing between kisses. I had been dreaming.

Not really planning.

But Tyler remembered.

And I forgot everything.

The guilt sits heavy in my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my fingers gripping the fork tightly. “I—”

He cuts me off with a quiet shhh, reaching across the table to brush his thumb over my bottom lip.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” His voice is warm, soothing. “I know how much you love me. That’s all that matters.”

Something in my chest aches.

I pick up the fork, forcing myself to take a bite of cake. It’s soft, sweet, perfect.

Tyler watches me, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

So I just nod, swallowing the cake, forcing a smile. “It’s really good.”

His smirk widens, pleased. “Of course it is. Only the best for my girl.”

He stands, moving behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders, fingers pressing into my skin in slow, firm circles.

“You must've been exhausted last night,” he murmurs against my hair. “I figured you needed the sleep. That’s why I didn’t wake you.”

I nod slightly, my body stiff.

His fingers move to my neck, tilting my chin up so I’m forced to look at him. His green eyes are softer than usual, warm, affectionate.

“This morning, I kept thinking about you,” he continues, his voice low. “How far we’ve come. How much we’ve been through.”

My throat tightens.

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” he whispers, thumb stroking my jaw. “But we always find our way back to each other.”

I stare at him, unable to look away.

Because this is the part that always confuses me. The part that makes me doubt myself.

Tyler can be so cruel sometimes. Controlling. Possessive. But then there are moments like this, where he makes me feel like we’re us again. Like he’s still the boy who kissed me under the bleachers after I cried to him that I made a huge mistake in my English exam, who brought me flowers for no reason, who made me feel like I was the only girl in the world.

And maybe he still believes we’re that same couple.

But I don’t know if I do.

Tyler smiles softly. “You’re mine, Sol. You always will be.”

The words settle heavily in my chest.

I should say something. I love you, I know, thank you for all of this.

But all I can manage is a small nod.

Because what else is there to say?

Tyler leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead before pulling back. “Go get dressed. I have a surprise for you.”

I blink. “A surprise?”

His grin turns playful. “Of course. It’s our anniversary, baby.”

Something about the way he says it sends a chill through me.

But I push it down, standing from my chair. “Okay.”

His hand lingers on my waist for a moment before he lets me go, watching as I disappear down the hall to our bedroom.

I close the door behind me, leaning against it, exhaling shakily.

The flowers, the cake, the gifts—they should make me feel loved.

But instead, all I feel is trapped.

I stand in front of my closet, staring blankly at the rows of neatly arranged clothes. My fingers hover over the hangers, but I can’t seem to make a decision.

Tyler said he had a surprise.

Which means whatever I wear has to be right.

I don’t know where we’re going, but I know what he expects—something fitted, flattering, pretty. Not the oversized sweaters or loose jeans I reach for when I want to disappear.

I push past those, pulling out a soft blue dress I haven’t worn in months. It’s delicate, with thin straps and a flowing skirt that lands just above my knees. Tyler loves this dress. He used to say it made my eyes stand out, that I looked like something out of a dream.

Maybe if I wear it, he’ll stay in this good mood.

Maybe the softness in his eyes from earlier won’t disappear.

I slip it on, smoothing my hands over the fabric before moving to the mirror. The reflection staring back at me looks familiar, but not me.

More like a version of myself I haven’t been in a long time.

A version Tyler wants me to be.

I swallow hard, forcing away the unease curling in my stomach.

By the time I step back into the living room, Tyler is waiting near the door, twirling his car keys between his fingers. His head lifts when he hears me, and for a moment, something flashes in his eyes—satisfaction, approval.

Then he grins, slow and easy. “Damn, baby. You look beautiful.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

He closes the distance between us, fingers brushing over my bare shoulders before settling on my waist. “See? This is what I mean. When you put in a little effort, you’re stunning.”

The words should feel like a compliment. But they don’t.

They feel like a reminder—of all the times he’s told me I don’t try enough, that I dress like I don’t care, that I don’t look like the kind of girl someone like him should be with.

I keep my smile in place anyway. “So… where are we going?”

His grin widens. “You’ll see.”

I nod, letting him take my hand as we head out the door.

~~~~~

The drive is quiet at first, the low hum of music filling the space between us. Tyler’s fingers tap against the steering wheel in rhythm, his other hand resting casually on my thigh.

He seems… happy. Relaxed. And I want to hold onto that, even if I don’t trust it to last.

Then, out of nowhere, he speaks.

“Do you remember our first anniversary?”

I glance at him, caught off guard. “Yeah… of course.”

“You made me that scrapbook,” he says, a small, nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “With all the little polaroids of us.”

I do remember.

I had spent weeks putting it together—printing photos, writing little notes beside each one, decorating the pages with inside jokes only we would understand.

He had loved it.

Back then, he used to love the small things. The thoughtful things.

I nod, forcing a soft laugh. “You said it was the best gift you ever got.”

“It was.” His grip on my thigh tightens slightly. “I still have it, you know.”

That surprises me.

For some reason, I thought he would have forgotten about it, shoved it in the back of a drawer somewhere.

But he remembers.

Just like he remembers everything else.

For a second, something unfamiliar flickers in my chest. Not quite warmth, not quite sadness but something in between.

Then Tyler exhales, shaking his head with a smirk. “I should’ve known then that you were the one, huh?”

I give him a small smile, but I don’t answer.

Because I don’t know if I believe that anymore.

And I don’t know if he truly does either.

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