Collecting the petals of our decaying love

It had been three years since Yunjin had last set foot on this alley, had last smelled the neighbor's freshly cut grass, and had last turned the key in the lock. She had driven past the house twice before finally parking, pretty sure it was the worst thing she could have ever inflicted to herself. 

The lease was still in both their names, neither of them able to bring themselves to sign the papers that would deliver the final blow to their relationship. Her lawyer had been trying to convince her to do so for months, in vain. Yunjin had only nodded and said, "yes, of course, I'll do it." But had never moved even a finger. 

But here she was, standing in front of the house like a hopeless fool because some roof tiles had shifted and needed to be repaired. The property management needed someone to let the repair people in, and Kazuha had forwarded the email to Yunjin with a note asking her to go. Yunjin hadn't wanted to, but that was the least she could've done.

She had cleared her afternoon and made the drive from the city, spending forty minutes on the highway to get to the suburb they had chosen to live in when they were still madly in love with each other. 

The door stuck when she pushed it open, probably because of humidity, and she had to put her shoulder into it before it gave way. A smell immediately filled her nostrils, but not the one she had expected. 

Flowers. 

She blinked slowly, her hand still on the doorknob, and her bag slid off her shoulder. It hit the floor with a thud but she ignored it, staring blankly at the vase on the counter. The crystal vase they had gotten as a wedding gift from Kazuha's mother, the one that was a bit too formal from what they usually liked but that Kazuha always insisted on filling with fresh flowers. 

Inside, stood a single pink tulip, the petals starting to curl at the edges, a few already fallen onto the dark surface. She stepped closer slowly. The water was still clean, had been changed recently, and she could see the fresh cut at the base of the stem that meant that someone had been there to take care of it. 

Her first thought was that it was a mistake, that the property management company had sent someone to stage the place before her arrival or that there had been a visit she hadn't been told about, but it didn't make much sense. The house wasn't for sale yet, and wouldn't be until both of them figured what they were going to do with it. 

"Someone must have broken in," she thought and then slowly shook her head. Why on earth would a robber leave a flower on the counter and come back to take care of it? In addition to that, the alarm system was still active, she had disarmed it when she came in. 

Her third thought hurt the most. Just thinking of it made her heart seize painfully inside her chest. 

She wandered through the living room mindlessly, slightly dazed. Everything was exactly as they had left it, some furniture covered with sheets, the curtains drawn, their books still perfectly arranged on the shelves in the living room. 

It felt weird to be back, as if her life had been on mute since she had last been inside that house. The piano was still in the corner by the window, the fall board closed, a thin layer of dust covering the brown wooden surface. She and Kazuha used to sit there together in the evening, Yunjin playing pieces she liked as Kazuha listened carefully, occasionally joining her shyly. Yunjin would correct her gently, guiding her fingers to the right keys.

"You're doing it wrong on purpose now hm?" Yunjin had once said, a laugh escaping her lips.

Kazuha had grinned and said, "I like it when you teach me."

Yunjin had immediately leaned and kissed her, forgetting completely about the piano session.

The memory hit Yunjin so hard she had to sit down on the sheet-covered couch, her legs suddenly weak. She pressed her palms to her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. This was exactly why she hadn't come back, why she had avoided this place like the plague for three years, because she had known how badly it would affect her. She had known that in every corner of the rooms, she would find ghosts of what they had been to each other.

She forced herself to stand and walked toward the kitchen. It was empty except for the vase sitting on the counter. She opened the refrigerator and found it unplugged and empty. Her brows furrowed slightly when she caught sight of the coffee maker, plugged in. Next to it were two mugs, carefully placed as if someone had meant to use them. She recognized them immediately. Of course she had meant to use those two specifically.

One of them was the white ceramic mug she had brought from her apartment in New York when she moved in with Kazuha, chipped at the edge from the time she had knocked it against the sink. The other one was the one made of delicate porcelain sent by Kazuha's grandmother from Osaka, the pale blue one. It was too small for the long coffees Kazuha liked and Yunjin would often tell her, but Kazuha loved it anyway.

She picked up Kazuha's one and palmed it with both hands. There was a faint trace of dried coffee at the bottom, and when she brought it to her nose, she was able to smell it. Someone had been there recently and had made coffee, pouring it into those specific mugs. Her heart clenched inside her chest and she pressed her lips together.

She set it down slowly and walked back to the vase with the tulip. From up close she could see more fallen petals than when she had first noticed it. Four of them were scattered on the counter. The flower was dying slowly, had one day or two left before it would be completely gone.

She had no idea what to do with this, unsure she wanted it to mean something. Kazuha had been here, had made coffee, and had left a flower behind. She thought of calling her, of asking what on earth she thought she was doing coming here and stirring everything up when they had both finally started to move on. But instead, she did nothing, simply letting her heart break all over again.

Silently, she walked up the stairs, and each of her steps echoed through the house. The door to their bedroom at the end of the hallway was closed, and Yunjin stood in front of it for a long time before finally pushing it open.

The bedroom, just like the rest of the rooms was exactly as they had left it. The bed was stripped down to the bare mattress and the closets were open and empty. But one thing in the corner of the room by the window caught her attention. Her breath hitched as she stepped closer. On the dresser was another vase, the green one they had bought together at the market one time. In it stood three white daisies that were wilted and brown, clearly days past the dead state.

Kazuha had been here longer than Yunjin thought, long enough to bring multiple flowers, to watch them die, replace them, and watch those die too. Long enough to sleep in their room, probably. To wake up in the bed and remember about the memories they had shared beneath those sheets.

Yunjin sat down on the edge of the mattress and stared at the dead daisies. She tried to imagine what Kazuha might have gone through, what she must have been thinking, what she must have been hoping for. The house had been what they had compromised on, it had been their attempt to build something that belonged to both of them. On one hand, Kazuha had wanted to stay in the city, close to the dance studio where she taught classes. On the other hand, Yunjin had been ready to leave everything behind, to distance herself from the harshness of the music industry she worked in.