Oliver ran into his ex-wife, and his cheeks practically turned green with envy. He slammed the fridge door shut with such force that everything inside rattled. One of the magnets fell off and clattered to the floor.
Helen stood across from him, pale with clenched fists.
“Feeling better now?” she exhaled, raising her chin.
“You’ve just worn me out,” Oliver snapped, though he tried to keep calm. “What kind of life is this? No joy, no future.”
“So, it’s my fault again?” Helen retorted bitterly. “Nothing’s ever like your dream world.”
Oliver wanted to say more but just waved his hand. He opened a bottle of mineral water, took a swig, and set it down on the table.
“Oliver, don’t keep silent,” Helen’s voice trembled. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”
“What’s there to say?” he smirked. “I’m fed up with it all. To heck with it!”
They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Finally, Helen sighed deeply and headed to the bathroom. Oliver sank onto the couch heavily. The sound of running water echoed from behind the door—Helen probably turned on the tap to drown out her own tears. But he didn’t care.
A Life Turned Routine
They had been married for three years. Initially, they lived in Helen’s flat, a gift from her parents, then moved to a country house, transferring the flat to their daughter. They lived in a spacious yet outdated space with furniture reminiscent of a bygone era. At first, Oliver was pleased: city center, conveniently close to work. But slowly, it started to grate on him. Helen loved her “family fortress” with brown wallpaper and an antique buffet, a family heirloom. Oliver saw it as stagnation.
“Helen, be honest,” he would often say. “Don’t you want to replace this awful yellow linoleum? Modernize this place?”
“Oliver, we can’t afford the renovations right now,” she’d calmly reply. “I want changes too, but we need to wait for the bonus.”
“Wait?! That’s your philosophy—endure and wait!”
Oliver often reminisced about falling in love with Helen. Back then, she was a modest student; her genuine blue eyes and gentle smile captivated him. He would tell his friends, “She’s a bud that’s yet to bloom.” But now it seemed that the flower never opened and had already withered.
Helen didn’t see herself as unremarkable. She lived as she pleased, finding joy in small things—a cup of peppermint tea, a fresh napkin, a peaceful evening with a book. But Oliver only saw stagnation and monotony.
They weren’t rushing to divorce—Oliver didn’t want to return to his parents, and living separately wasn’t an option. Helen’s mother, Mary Evans, always sided with her daughter-in-law:
“Son, Helen’s a good girl. Be thankful you have a flat.”
“Mum, you just don’t get it!” Oliver would grumble.
His father only waved a hand:
“Let him sort it out himself.”
At home, Oliver grew increasingly distant: “She’s like a shadow, a grey ghost…” he thought. During one argument, he exclaimed:
“I once saw a beautiful flower in you! And what now? I’m living with a frozen bud…”
Helen cried for the first time in months. On the day everything finally fell apart, Oliver quietly said:
“Helen, I’m exhausted.”
“From what?” she asked.
“This life, this endless routine.”
Helen picked up her bag and left. Oliver hoped she would return and ask him to stay, but she walked out calmly:
“Maybe it’s best for you to live alone. Move out.”
Oliver exploded:
“I’m not leaving!”
“This is my parents’ house,” Helen said coldly. “And I don’t want to live with someone who sees me as a burden.”
With no choice left, Oliver moved out. A few weeks later, their divorce was finalized.
A Meeting That Changed Everything
Three years passed. Oliver still lived with his parents, trying to start anew, but luck didn’t favor him. His job offered little money, and only small joys grew.
One spring evening, while strolling down the street, he passed a café and, peeking through the window, froze in place. Standing at the entrance was Helen.
But this wasn’t the Helen he remembered. An assured woman stood before him, with a stylish haircut, an elegant coat, and a set of car keys in hand.
“Helen?” Oliver said in amazement.
She turned, recognized him, and smiled.
“Oliver? Hello! How are you?”
“Uh… okay,” he stammered, unable to take his eyes off her.
“Everything well with you?” she asked calmly.
“You seem to be doing even better… Work as usual?”
“No, I’ve opened my own floral studio. It was scary, but… someone supported me.”
“Who’s that?”
From a table inside the café emerged a tall man in a pricey coat, gently wrapping an arm around Helen’s shoulders:
“Darling, a table just freed up. Shall we?”
“Oliver, meet Adam,” Helen said, introducing him. “We’re glad to see you.”
“Happy for you,” Oliver mumbled, feeling envy tighten inside him.
“Thank you,” Helen replied calmly.
Adam nodded, and they both entered the café, leaving Oliver standing on the chilly sidewalk.
He had once said, “I live with a frozen bud.” But the bud had bloomed after all. Just not with him.
