⛽ Gas Station Roses

I still remember when he called. “How are you?” I asked.

He said, “Shitty.”

I paused, confused. “What’s wrong?”

Then it came: “I fell in love with you.” 💔

I should’ve felt joy, right? But his voice didn’t carry a confession – it carried a burden. No blooming heart, no warmth. Just a creaking cage. 🪫

“That’s… nice,” I replied carefully.“

No,” he said. “It’s not. I’m suffering.”

😞Because of me. My job. Everything. Always.

He said he was coming over to talk. And already then, I had that feeling – that sense of dread. ⚠️“Do you want to break up?” I asked

.“If I wanted to break up, I wouldn’t come,” he replied. But deep down I already knew: he wasn’t coming to talk. He was coming to save what didn’t belong to him. 🧯

Then he stood there. With roses from the gas station. 🛢️🌹

And said: “I thought I’d bring the some flowers.”The. Not you. Not Lia. Not I see you.

👁️Just “the” – as if I were a thing, a role in his plan.

🎭I didn’t even have a name in that moment. No identity. Just a function.

I didn’t want his fucking roses. 🚫

We sat downstairs in the hotel. He was already at the table, chewing on bread 🥖 while I was still adjusting my bag. 👜

I had just arrived – he’d been there. Symbolic, somehow.

Like I was allowed to enter his scenery. 🎬

He talked for a long time. I honestly don’t remember everything he said – only that I couldn’t speak. I just sat there, hands open. 🤲 I kept thinking: This can’t be real. He wanted to shape me like clay. 🪨

Turn me into a solution, an object. 🧱

The waiters were watching. The room was empty, but full of eyes. 👀

Then the waitress came, soft-voiced: “Can I get you anything else?”I looked at her. For me? No. No one can help me now. I was already gone. Only my body still sat there. 🫥

Then I asked him – quietly, trembling: “What if I can’t give you a child? 👶 Would you leave me?”He looked at me. Long. Silent. No twitch, no reaction. Just cold, calculated stillness. 🧊

And in that silence, I heard it loud and clear: Yes. Of course he’d leave me if I couldn’t give him a child. That’s what I was for. ⚙️

Then he softened again.“Come on, give me a kiss. Everything’s fine now.”

😚A kiss – like that would be enough to erase everything.

And I let it happen.Because I was soft. In love.

💞I wanted peace.

☮️Harmony.

🌈And yes – I wanted a child with him. Not with anyone else. With him .Because I believed we had something rare, something sacred.

✨But he didn’t care who it was. As long as she was pretty, smart, and willing to fulfill his plan. 🧠🧩He didn’t care about me – just the outcome: a child. 🤰

That was the real turning point of our relationship.

I should’ve left. But I stayed – hoping I was overreacting. 😶‍🌫️

I called my friend Jennifer. Told her everything.

☎️She said: “Red flag. Run. Blood red. Dangerous.”

🚨I didn’t believe her. Thought she was projecting.

🙄Told myself: Maybe she just always talks badly about men.

But now I know: She wasn’t projecting.

She saw.

She saw me – before I could see myself. 🪞

And those roses ?I never watered them. 🚿

I let them wither – just like the illusion that this was ever love. 🥀