RITA'S DATA INFORMATION:
Name: Rita Maryie Salvador
Age: 31
Personality: Strong and pragmatic, yet quietly yearning for the warmth and connection she's lost over the years.
Rita Salvador's POV
There's a certain peace that comes with being surrounded by flowers. The delicate petals, the vibrant colors - they're like little pieces of life that keep going, even when everything else feels like it's standing still. I've spent most of my days in the quiet of my shop, arranging bouquets, breathing in the scent of fresh blooms, and finding comfort in the simplicity of my work. But lately, even the flowers have started to feel like they're just another part of a routine I've grown tired of.
I look at my hands, worn from years of arranging stems and wrapping paper, and for the first time in a long time, I wonder if I've spent more time nurturing flowers than nurturing myself, or the life that used to be shared with Carlos.
Carlos. My husband.
God, I don't even remember the last time we had a conversation that lasted longer than a few minutes. Our marriage has become something automatic, like the motions we go through without really thinking. I used to think that love meant staying, no matter what. I thought if I worked hard enough, if I just held on tight enough, we would find our way back to each other. But now, I wonder if that's just an excuse for something I'm too afraid to admit.
I can't remember the last time I laughed with him or how long it's been since I felt truly seen. I find myself replaying moments in my head - the times we laughed together, the times I felt like we were a team. But then those memories get swallowed up by the silence between us. The distance that has grown so wide, I'm not sure if there's a way back anymore.
But today... today something is different.
I sit behind the counter, absentmindedly arranging a bunch of lilacs. The door to my shop opens, and a familiar voice calls out to me.
"Rita? Are you here?"
It's Grace, one of my longtime customers. She's been coming here for years, always in need of flowers for a special occasion. But this time, her voice sounds softer, like she's searching for something.
"Rita, are you okay?"
I glance up and see the concern in her eyes. She's always had this ability to read people, to see what they won't say out loud. I feel a pang of guilt, like she knows something I haven't even acknowledged yet.
"I'm fine," I say, though I know it's not true. Not entirely.
Grace gives me a knowing look. She's seen the change in me, just like I've seen it in myself.
"Rita, you've spent so much time giving to everyone else. Don't forget to give to yourself," she says gently, placing a small hand on mine.
I want to tell her everything, to admit that I don't know how to feel anymore and that I'm afraid to face the truth about my marriage. But the words get caught in my throat.
She smiles softly, like she understands, and steps back.
"I'll take the lilacs," she says. "They're beautiful."
I nod and wrap the flowers carefully, trying to steady my shaking hands. As I finish, Grace pays and leaves, the door closing softly behind her.
The silence in the shop feels heavier now, but it's not the silence I'm used to. It's different. It's the silence that's making me think - really think - about everything. About Carlos. About me.
I close my eyes for a moment, and in the darkness behind my eyelids, I see flashes of us together - our wedding, the years we spent building a life, the moments of joy that once seemed endless. But I also see the cracks that have started to form, the moments when I realized we were living in a shadow of what we once had. I feel the weight of all the years that have passed, the years I've sacrificed for a love that feels like it's slipping away, and I wonder if it's time to stop holding on.
I feel tired. But not in the way I've been tired before. It's the kind of tired that makes you realize you've been running on fumes for too long, that the things you thought would always be there - your love, your connection - are slipping through your fingers.
I stand up and walk to the back of the shop, where I keep a small garden of my own, the space where I go to collect my thoughts and tend to the plants that have somehow become my refuge. I kneel down beside a patch of daisies, letting the smell of the earth fill my senses.
I think of Carlos. The years we've spent together, the years we've spent apart in ways we never wanted to admit. And I wonder if there's a way to start again, to find a way back to each other - or if that ship has already sailed.
But for the first time in a long while, I feel the smallest flicker of hope. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe it's time to stop waiting for things to change on their own and instead, make the change myself. To decide what I need and what I deserve, and to stop living in the shadow of a love that no longer feels like it's mine.
Flashback
It was a quiet evening, the kind that felt like time itself was holding its breath. Carlos and I sat at the dinner table, the clinking of silverware against plates echoing in the empty kitchen. The kids were grown and living their own lives, and it was just the two of us now, like it used to be when we were young and full of dreams. But now, there was a distance between us - silent, unspoken, but undeniable.
Carlos was reading the paper, his eyes scanning the headlines, while I tried to focus on the salad in front of me. I kept my gaze on the vegetables, but my mind wandered. I could feel it - the tension in the air. It had been building for months, maybe longer. I used to believe that love was enough to keep things together, but now I wasn't so sure.
I set down my fork, pushing my plate aside. "Carlos," I said softly, my voice tentative, as if the words had to be carefully chosen.
He lowered the paper, his tired eyes meeting mine. "What is it, Rita?"
"I've been thinking... about us," I said, my hands fumbling in my lap. It was the first time I had said it out loud, but somehow, it had been lingering in my heart for a long time. "I think we've drifted apart."
His face hardened, just a little. It wasn't anger, but it was something else, something that told me he wasn't ready to hear what I had to say. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know, Carlos," I said, swallowing. "We've been living separate lives for years. The kids are gone, and now it's just us. And... it's like we've forgotten how to talk to each other."
There was a pause, long enough for me to feel the weight of what I had said. Carlos didn't respond right away. His eyes went back to the paper, but he didn't lift it. His silence was loud, deafening, and it made my chest tighten.
"I'm still here, Rita," he said finally, his voice flat. "What do you want me to say?"
"I just..." My voice cracked slightly. "I don't know anymore. I don't know if we're still the same people we were when we first got married."
Carlos put the paper down and looked at me directly, his face softening. "We've been through a lot, Rita. But that's life, isn't it? It changes us. We just need to adapt."
I nodded slowly, but deep inside, I felt a sting. I had always believed that change was a part of growth, but now, it felt like we were changing in ways that had pulled us farther apart instead of bringing us closer.
"I know," I said quietly, my hands still clasped tightly in my lap. "But I don't want to be a stranger to you, Carlos. I don't want us to wake up one day and realize that we've spent all this time just coexisting."
He sighed, his gaze drifting away for a moment. "We've built a life together. That's something to be proud of."
I smiled, though it felt hollow. "I'm proud of everything we've done. But sometimes I wonder... if there's more to life than just surviving it."
Carlos looked at me again, this time with a furrowed brow. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, maybe we've forgotten how to really live," I said, my voice trembling now. "Maybe we need to find our way back to each other, before there's nothing left to save."
There was a long silence after that. He didn't say anything, just stared at me as if he was trying to understand what I was saying, or maybe trying to figure out how to respond. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of the words hanging in the air between us.
But then, just as I was about to say something else, the phone rang, cutting through the tension like a sharp knife. Carlos reached for it without hesitation, like the moment we were in was already over.
"Hello?" he said gruffly, answering the call without even looking at me.
I watched him, my heart sinking further into my chest. It was as if the conversation had never happened. The call, the mundane interruptions of life, they were all louder than the things that needed to be said. And in that moment, I knew - really knew - that we had already crossed a line. We had already been living in the shadows of each other for too long.
I stood up quietly, leaving the table before he could finish the call. I walked to the garden, needing to breathe, needing some space. As I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my skin, and I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to clear my thoughts.
I had always believed that love was a choice, that it was something you had to fight for. But now, I wasn't so sure. Because I wasn't sure if Carlos and I still knew how to fight for each other.
And it hurt. It hurt in a way that nothing else ever had before.
--------End of Flashback---------
The memory lingers, like a scar I've tried to ignore. I return to the present, feeling the weight of the years and the silence between us. And as I look around my shop, at the flowers that still bloom despite everything, I realize that maybe I need to fight for something else now - myself. Maybe that's the first step.
I stand up, dusting off my knees, and as I head back to the counter, I feel a quiet determination. The flowers are still there, waiting to be arranged, waiting to be appreciated. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find the same beauty in myself again. Because even though I've spent years taking care of others, it's time to start taking care of me.
Carlos and I may have lost our way, but I'm not lost. Not yet.