CHAPTER 82: THE FLOWERS OF SORRY

"You think I don’t know? You asked Martin to investigate that old case. About Owen."

"So it was Martin..." she muttered under her breath when she realized he had told Rowan about the old case.

She met Rowan’s gaze, her eyes firm despite the hurt inside her.

"Yes. I had Martin investigate. I just wanted to get rid of the questions that had been running through my head.

That’s it. I’ve already buried that past. As for Owen, it’s ridiculous to think I ever liked someone who looks exactly like that jerk, Lucas."

Lyra let out everything in one breath.

"Why did you keep it a secret?"

"It’s not a secret... it’s my past. And like I just told you, I buried it. I don’t want to remember any of it."

"But you went to have lunch with Owen that day."

"I was only repaying his kindness with one lunch, after everything he suffered for years because of me. And we promised not to bring up the past. Like it or not, we’re friends from now on."

Fed up and done with the argument, she shot up, turned sharply, and stormed to the bedroom.

Rowan rose as well, but only watched her disappear upstairs.

The moment Lyra shut the bedroom door, he finally made his way up.

She locked the door behind her and headed for the shower, hoping the running water would take the edge off her anger.

Tears streamed down, mixing with the spray, and a small wave of relief settled over her after she finally let herself cry.

Lyra opened the door slowly, surprised to find Rowan sitting on the bed, facing her with a quiet look that made it seem as though he’d been waiting for a while.

She’d forgotten. After all, it was his house, of course he had a key.

Ignoring him, Lyra moved to the mirror and began drying her hair. But the reflection of his gaze in the mirror irritated her.

When she was done, she picked up her phone and a pillow, then stormed out of the room to sleep somewhere else.

He called after her once, but she ignored him. Even when she heard him grunt in frustration, she kept descending the stairs, ignoring his outburst.

Hours later, Rowan leaned against the bedroom doorframe, his arms crossed.

A robe hung loosely on him, a towel draped around his neck, his hair half dry.

The clock showed past midnight, but his eyes stayed fixed on his wife sleeping on the sofa in the dimly lit living room downstairs.

After a long moment, he stepped quietly and descended the stairs.

He scooped her up, and Lyra began to stir, but she was still asleep. He carried her back up to the their room.

The alarm buzzed in the morning, pulling Lyra from sleep.

Her eyes fluttered open as she realized her arm and leg were draped over Rowan, who was still dozing beside her.

She sighed, worn out from everything, and drifted into such a deep sleep that she didn’t notice Rowan carrying her to the bedroom.

His brow was knitted in sleep. It made her heart ache.

She rested her head against his bare chest and closed her eyes again.

Rowan stirred... a warm breath brushed the top of her head, and his strong hand wrapped around her, pulling her close.

"I’m sorry..."

His groggy, raspy voice drifted out as he leaned in and gave her a quick peck.

Hearing that, Lyra shook her head slightly.

"I’m not forgiving you this time," she said, but she remained in his arms.

She had already softened, but she refused to say she forgave him.

He had repeated the same mistake three times, and she wasn’t going to let it slide so easily.

Weeks later, she regretted what she had said.

Every single day, Rowan sent her a bouquet as an apology.

Each time she returned from lunch, there would be flowers and a cake delivered for her.

"I already forgave you long ago. Why are you still sending flowers?"

Lyra sat in the mother-and-child unit, asking in a low voice as she looked at the latest delivery that had just arrived.

She felt embarrassed, the bouquets weren’t small, they were huge every time. And it had been a month since the day they argued about Owen.

She heard Rowan chuckle over the phone.

"Don’t laugh, Rowan. You promised this morning there would be no flowers today, but one still arrived."

Her hand was itching. If he were here, she would pinch his waist.

"Sorry... it’s become a habit. How am I supposed to stop? Besides, I help the florist run their business smoothly."

Lyra grunted softly.

"Is it a crime if I send you flowers every day?" he teased.

"Yeah... it embarrassed me every time. Everyone kept staring, and I didn’t even have the space to put them anymore."

Lyra rubbed her temple, and she heard him laugh again.

"Okay then... how about a dinner date instead?"

"Anything, as long as you stop delivering flowers."

A nurse came knocking and signaled to Lyra that they would start calling the patients. Lyra nodded in understanding.

"I have a charity dinner tonight. Want to come with me?"

"Sure, I’ll join you. Anyway, I have to go, patients are waiting."

...

By nightfall, Lyra found herself standing beside Rowan at the entrance of the event hall. She wore a gold evening satin gown that matched Rowan’s suit perfectly.

An event staff member guided them to their table, where Albert and Monica were already seated.

Both of them were stunned to see Rowan show up.

"What miracle brought you here today? You usually send Damian and Kane," Albert blurted out.

Monica slapped his arm, giving him a sharp warning look not to tease their son.

Then she pulled Lyra into a warm hug, pressing their cheeks together.

"I’m sorry, dear. My son isn’t the romantic kind. He’s been married for months, and only now does he bring his wife to dinner."

Monica lowered her voice, but Rowan still heard her.

He quickly pulled Lyra into the seat beside him, one chair away from his mother, as if creating a safety zone before she could start poisoning his wife thoughts.

Albert rose from his seat when he saw the Arden family approaching.

Oliver exaggerated his expression of surprise the moment he spotted Rowan.

"Rowan, it’s rare for Uncle to see you at events like this," Oliver teased.

"Uncle will be seeing me more often from now on." He smiled as he shook Oliver’s hand.