One minute, two minutes, three minutes. Finally, Cynthia, growing impatient, shouted into the phone, "Liam, are you even listening? Are you mute? Transfer the money, or I swear I won't forgive you!"
Her voice was loud, drawing the attention of a few colleagues.
I quickly hung up.
How could Cynthia say such things?
She hadn't even explained her situation with Eric but was quick to blame me.
I pressed my fingers to my forehead, trying to calm my emotions.
A colleague nearby chuckled, teasing, "Your girl is like a thorny rose; not everyone can handle her! But, to be fair, she has her charms!"
I laughed it off, but inside, I felt bitter.
My hometown in the northwest was barren, where roses couldn't even grow in the desolate desert.
I understood that loving someone was like nurturing a flower, so I took great care of my girlfriend, this delicate bloom.
She was like a rose—beautiful, spirited, and sharp.
If she were just a girl with a bad temper, I could accept that.
I understood that the prettier the girl, the prouder she was.
From the first day we started dating, I had prepared to pamper her for life.
But what if she wasn't loyal?