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I feel violated by her words because they are the truth and I hate her for letting me see exactly what she’s trying to say.
Loving myself is not as easy as it sounds. It doesn’t just appear in a flash.
It takes work.
Work I don’t think I’m strong enough to face, yet.
Chapter44
Violetta
Tired isn’t even the word I would begin to describe the exhaustion overtaking my senses.
I’m so fatigued that it’s hard for me to reach for my hotel key card in my pocket. My fingers fumble as my eyes close every so often in response to how worn out I am.
The tennis match on top of all the conversation I had afterward really took a toll on me. My eyes are swollen from the tears I shed, ones I know tennis journalists will perceive as the result of me losing to Letty.
It’s not like I cried in front of them, but the swelling and redness from rubbing them for so long are apparent on my features.
The green light appears, which leads me to open the door to my hotel room. I struggle a tiny bit at how heavy the door is.
I drop the tennis bag from my shoulder to the ground as I hear the door close behind me.
I’m about to beeline for the bed, but something catches my attention. On the TV stand, I see sunflowers wrapped in a purple ribbon tied into a bow.
My heart jumps in surprise.
Who would leave me sunflowers and why are they in my room?
That jars me slightly at the thought that someone was in my room, but curiosity takes over. I grab the flowers, smelling them hesitantly.
The yellow petals look perfect while surrounding the dark brown circle in the middle. They smell fresh. I count them and exactly ten sit in the bouquet.
A white piece of paper is attached.
I open it immediately.
Blondie,
10 sunflowers for the 10 reasons why I’m inspired by you.
On the bottom of the card are the lyrics to “Soy Yo” by my favorite artist Luis Miguel. They’re romantic and all-consuming. Tears threaten to leave my eyes as I read his words alongside the music that helped me cope with my pain.
I sure as heck am awake now.
Chapter45
Violetta
I’m on the bed, lying down as I stare at the sunflowers on the TV stand in front of me.
The note is on my bedside table. I’ve read it hundreds of times, trying to understand what he’s trying to say. But still, there are so many possibilities as to what it fully means.
It’s intimate in a way. Just the thought of him being inspired by me in any capacity is personal. The affirmation makes me all tingly inside. Butterflies fly free in my stomach, spreading havoc to my heart.
As I stare at the bouquet in front of me, it’s almost jarring.
It scares me that this simple act might resolve my complicated mind.
