Owen arrived the following afternoon.
Miriam asked Kayla whether she wanted to see him.
Kayla said yes, with Miriam nearby.
He brought flowers.
Kayla did not take them.
He set them on the counter.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt.”
She waited.
He shifted his weight.
“I handled it badly.”
“What did you do?”
He looked frustrated.
“You know what I did.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Miriam stayed at the kitchen table, quiet.
Owen glanced at her.
“Can we have some privacy?”
“No,” Kayla said.
He looked back at her.
“I sent a different design.”
“Without asking me.”
“Yes.”
“And watched them tattoo it on me.”
“I thought once you saw it—”
Kayla raised her right hand.
“Stop there.”
He closed his mouth.
“What did you think I would do once I saw your ex’s name?”
“I thought we could talk about what it meant.”
“You could have talked before.”
“I knew you’d say no.”
The room went still.
Kayla felt something settle inside her.
There it was.
No confusion.
No misunderstanding.
He knew her answer and arranged things so it would come too late.
Owen seemed to realize what he had admitted.
“I mean, you wouldn’t have understood.”
“I understand now.”
He gestured toward her arm.
“We can fix it. Put flowers around it. Make it part of something bigger.”
Kayla looked at the bouquet on the counter.
Even now, he was choosing what her body should look like.
“You don’t get to design the repair.”
His voice rose.
“So what do you want from me?”
“Leave.”
He stared.
“Kayla.”
“Leave the flowers and take yourself home.”
When the door closed, she sat down beside Miriam.
Her hands were shaking again.
But the decision no longer was.
