The Spring She Grew Into

Yvette was at the door.

She lingered at the door, looking like she was about to cry. "Adrian, the electricity in my apartment shorted out, and the power strip just blew up. I..."

Before she could get it all out, Adrian was already by her side, concern etched on his face. "Are you burned?"

"No, I was just making some coffee when I got startled. My hand shook, and I spilled the boiling water on myself."

Tears welled up in Yvette's eyes as she showed him the red mark the size of a coin on the back of her hand.

Adrian's heart clenched at the sight, and he gently took her hand. "Does it hurt? Come on in, I'll get you some burn cream," he said, making room for Yvette to step inside.

"It's fine, it's not that bad anymore," Yvette insisted, but her eyes darted to Janice, who was standing nearby. She hesitated, as if she wanted to pull her hand back.

"I was just so scared, and I didn't know what to do, so I ran over here to you.

"Adrian, could you find someone to fix it?"

Adrian did not release her hand. Instead, he drew her further inside, his voice resolute, "No way! It's too risky to let you stay there by yourself."

"Here's the plan: I'll look for a new place for you tomorrow. Until then, you can crash here."

Yvette glanced at Janice, a flicker of triumph in her eyes that she could not quite hide.

"Is it okay if I stay? I don't want to be in the way, Janice."

Janice felt a pang in her chest as memories flooded in.

The first time Adrian had come back, that woman had conveniently made a call to whisk him away.

The second time, she did not even wait. She just showed up at the door, ready to move in and keep an eye on things.

Then she had the nerve to ask if she was a disturbance?

Janice just stared at Yvette, her face a mask of calm.

Yvette arched an eyebrow, holding Janice's gaze with a defiant spark in her eyes.

It was like there were invisible fireworks crackling between them.

"Just chill out and get comfy!" Adrian cut in, not waiting for a reply, and nudged Janice. "Stop zoning out. Didn't you see Yvette's hand? It's all red from the burn. Go grab some burn cream, now!"

Caught off balance, Janice tripped and crashed to the floor, landing in a mess of broken porcelain.

Sharp shards dug into her knees, and blood started to flow like a mini river.

Adrian, though, was all focused on Yvette, gently pressing ice against her hand. He never looked Janice's way.

Janice gritted her teeth, pushed herself off the ground, and hobbled to the door.

Adrian's voice trailed after her. "Hey, where are you off to? Going to grab some Band-Aids? Don't forget to pick up a fresh tube of burn cream. The one we've got opened might not work as well."

Janice did not look back, just slammed the door shut, his voice cut off mid-sentence.

"Is she ticked off? Is this going to mess up your plan?"

Yvette peeked up at Adrian, her words tripping over each other. "Adrian, I swear it wasn't on purpose, I..."

Adrian's eyes landed on the bloodied porcelain, his forehead creasing.

He turned to see Yvette's tear-filled eyes and pulled her into a comforting hug, whispering, "Don't sweat it about her. She'll cool off in no time. I'll sweet-talk her later; she'll come around.

"Let's see how your hand's doing. We don't want any scars, do we?"

..

In the sterile white of the hospital room, a nurse gently removed the tiny shards of porcelain from Janice's knee. She looked up, concerned about etching her features. "How did these get so deep? This wound won't heal nicely at all, and it's going to scar."

The sting of antiseptic on her raw skin made Janice suck in a sharp breath.

That was when her phone buzzed to life.

Fishing it out from her bag, Janice saw it was a text from Yvette.

[Janice, Adrian was digging for some burn cream and found this. He said it's useless now, tossed it in the trash!]

A picture followed the message.

It was a clean bedsheet, just a crumpled mess, thrown carelessly on a trash heap littered with fruit peels and leftover soup. The once-hidden, dark spots of blood, shaped like plum blossoms, were barely visible.

Janice's world shattered in an instant, and the tears she had been holding back surged forward like a dam bursting.

That bedsheet was a memory of her first night with Adrian. She had meant to wash it, but Adrian had taken it from her, promising to keep it for a special occasion. "I have you now," he had said, "but I owe you a proper wedding. We'll use it again on our wedding night to make things perfect."

There was, marrying someone else, tossing away their past as easily as throwing out an old pair of shoes.

Janice could not stop the tears; they poured out uncontrollably.

The nurse was flustered. "Did I hurt you? Oh, please don't cry. I'll try to be more gentle, okay?"