After the roses
The roses were still on the floor.
Crushed slightly, half slipping out of the grocery store wrapper, their petals bruised from where she’d dropped them.
It had all happened so fast. She was dumbfounded.
They’d spent the afternoon together. Most of their friends would’ve said they were just casually dating — nothing serious, nothing official — but for Grace, it was more than that. It had always been more.
That morning, Ryan had asked her to meet him at the cafeteria after their biology lecture. Grace had walked over, heart fluttering, ignoring the strange looks her classmates gave her as she passed. When she stepped inside, she froze.

There he was — Ryan. Tall, charming, standing right on top of a table in the middle of the room, holding up a sign that read, “Hi Baby G, there’s a surprise waiting for you.”
Her heart soared.
Oh God, he really did feel the same way.
She didn’t know it yet — couldn’t have — that the surprise waiting for her would break her in a way she wouldn’t forget.
They skipped the rest of the lectures with shaky excuses, claiming they were both “sick”. Valentine’s Day — overhyped, cheesy, dumb. But also… hers. Their day. The first time she’d ever had someone to share it with.
He took her to a cozy cabin just nearby their campus area, still far away for anyone to spot them.
As they went inside, he looked her in the eyes and said, “I’ve never felt this close to someone before. He kissed her forehead and pulled her against his chest and whispered, “You’re amazing, you know that?”
Grace, feeling shy now, says “Now come on, I can’t wait for the surprise anymore.”
There are candles lit everywhere, rose petals are spread on the floor in heart shape, the bed set up beautifully with chocolates, perfume, intimate luxury.
Ryan goes to sit on the bed, shirt untucked, first two buttons opened, “come here, baby”.
They lay there for a few minutes, the weight of the moment still in the air. Her hair tangled in his shirt. Her heart thudding like it didn’t quite know what had just happened.
And then he said it.
“I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship.”
She laughed at first. Thought it was a joke. But he didn’t smile. He just stared at the ceiling like it was easier than looking at her.
“What?”
“I mean, I like you. I do. I just… I’ve been thinking, and maybe we rushed into this. I don’t think we should keep seeing each other.”
The words crashed into her chest like ice water.
“You’re breaking up with me? Right now?” she asked, her voice so small it scared her.
He sat up, pulling his hoodie over his head like they hadn’t just shared something sacred. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to be honest. It’s not fair to lead you on.”
She blinked, trying to process what was happening. Her body still hurt a little — not in a bad way, just sore in the way you are after something new, something big.
“You could’ve said that before,” she whispered.
“I didn’t know how I felt until now,” he replied, like that made it better. Like that was enough.
She didn’t cry in front of him.
She nodded, woodenly. Pulled on her jeans. Picked up the roses he’d brought with a dumb little smile that morning and walked out of the room, her face burning. No ride, no words, no backward glance.
The bus ride home felt a thousand years long. She sat against the window and stared through her reflection. The petals were falling off the roses. One by one.
She got home and told her mom she had a stomachache. Hid in her room. Showered twice. Crawled under her blanket with her hoodie still on and turned her phone face-down.
By the time the sun had disappeared, her group chat was blowing up with Valentine’s selfies, chocolate hearts, “he got me this” and “he said this” and “omg goals.” She didn’t answer.
Her best friend, Rhea, texted:
everything okay??
u disappeared
She stared at the screen for a full minute before typing back:
He dumped me. after.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.
Then Rhea replied:
I’m coming over. Right now. Don’t argue.
Fifteen minutes later, Rhea climbed through her window like it was a movie. Fuzzy socks, emergency chocolate, and that look on her face that meant she’d burn down the world if asked.
Grace didn’t say anything at first. Just let herself be hugged. For a long time.
Then it came spilling out. Not just the breakup, but everything — the build-up, the nerves, the way Ryan had made her feel safe and special and wanted. How she thought it meant something. How stupid she felt now.
“He made you feel like it meant something because it did,” Rhea said firmly. “To you. And that’s not stupid. That’s just… being real.
Grace wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I feel gross.”
“You’re not. You’re not broken. You’re not dumb. You’re not gross. He is,” Rhea said, passing her the chocolate. “You trusted him. That’s not a mistake. He broke that trust. Big difference.”
They stayed up until 2 a.m. watching dumb rom-coms and rewriting the endings out loud. In one, the guy apologizes and gets dumped instead. In another, the girl falls in love with herself and opens a bookstore in Italy.
At some point, Grace laughed for the first time that day — a small, tired sound. But it was real.
Before Rhea left, she reached over and squeezed Grace’s hand. “This doesn’t define you, okay? It sucks. It hurts. But this is not the end of your story. You don’t get smaller after this. You get stronger.”
The next morning, Grace woke up to texts from Ryan. Of course.
I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hope we can still be friends.
She didn’t reply.
She picked up the crumpled roses from the floor and carried them to the backyard. Dug a small hole in the soft dirt near the corner fence. And she buried them. Every last petal.
Not in a sad way. Not as some dramatic goodbye.
But like planting something new.
Have you ever given your heart to someone who wasn’t ready for it?
Grace trusted Ryan with her body and her heart — and he walked away.
Do you think there’s ever a “right” time to know if someone truly values you?
And more importantly, how do you remind yourself that you are still enough after someone leaves?
Share your story below. You never know who might need to hear it.