The wind roared in disapproval as the verdict was passed. Daniel couldn’t move: the words had frozen him to the seat. He steadied his breathing and rose, desperately trying to stay standing. He organised his papers with shaking hands, trying to uphold whatever dignity he had left. A flush of heat crept up his neck— he longed for the cool, autumn breeze. Eyes fixed on the floor, he left the courthouse hurriedly.

                 The rain fell relentlessly outside. Cold as it was, the wind felt comforting. By the time he finally got a taxi, he was soaked and shivering. Thankfully, the driver wasn’t the chatty type. Daniel was grateful for that. 

                 He still had his papers in his hand — they were soaked beyond repair. He could’ve sworn he’d stuffed them in his bag as he left. Pressing his forehead to the cool glass, he desperately tried to steady his shallow breath.

                 He practically fled the taxi. Did he pay? Even if he didn’t, the taxi had already driven off. He stepped through the sleek glass doors, painfully aware of the sharply dressed people rushing past him. He made for the elevator, dragging his feet as he went. 

                 The ding of the elevator echoed longer than it should have. His legs protested, but he laboriously stepped onto his floor. As he approached his office, he thought he heard his name in hushed whispers around the floor. His hand trembled violently as he struggled with the doorknob. He entered, and his eyes fell hard on a small envelope on his desk.

                 He tore the letter open with clammy hands. He read slowly at first, then faster as the words sank in. Performance. Standards. Termination. Packages. It was all over in a matter of moments. He glanced at his wife’s picture on his desk, wondering how he was going to tell her.

                 His fingers jittered with a tremor he couldn’t control. The picture of Anita was the last item in his box. He stared at her radiant smile, and a pit formed in his stomach. They hadn't had a conversation without fighting recently — this wouldn't improve things.

                 Daniel took a last look at the office, yet he only saw blank faces staring aimlessly back at him. He stepped out of the pristine glass doors with a clawing in his chest. Standing in the relentless downpour, with twenty years of life in his hands, he couldn’t call another taxi.

                 Every raindrop that afternoon felt like judgment, a silent voice telling him to change. He clung to his box with all he had as he set out into the late-afternoon bustle. Walking had never held much appeal to him, and struggling to make way through a sea of faces, he remembered why. It wasn't so rare anymore: a broken man in a suit carrying all he owned at two in the afternoon.

                 Lost in his thoughts, Daniel barely registered his surroundings until an angry car horn pierced through the fog. The angry words, the raised voices, they didn’t matter. He just wanted to go home.

                 Aimlessly, Daniel stumbled his way down the packed street. Quite suddenly, he tripped through the front door of a market — twenty years of life spilt on the polished floor. Puzzled stares on his back humiliated him further as he scrambled to pick up his dignity. While he was there, he wanted to get something for his Anita - flowers, maybe. 

                 When he reached the aisle, a cold shock ran down his spine. He’d forgotten her favourite flower. Instinctively, he reached for the white lilies closest to him. She’d like those, right? 

                 He went to pay and handed the bunch to the youthful cashier. She took his money, then sent him off with an emotive “Take care of yourself.” Something caught in his chest as he collected himself. Standing by the exit, he steadied his rapid breathing. He wasn’t far from home; he could still walk. He set out again, a cautious pace carrying him home.

                 As he entered his building, Daniel caught sight of himself in the mirror. The man in the mirror looked pale and exhausted: his tie was at a crooked angle, and his suit was soaked through. Sighing, he continued up to his apartment. Dreading what was once the best part of his day, he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

                 His heart hammered in his throat as he turned his key in the lock. He wasn’t going to knock, not this time. She deserved the truth, in all its bitterness. He watched her motionless silhouette. She didn’t even turn around. How was he going to redeem himself when her silence told him everything he needed to know?

                 He set his case down gently and said into the air, “Honey, I’m home!”

                 The silence closed in on all sides. Finally, she responded with a quiet “Oh.. hi”. She rose with an air of caution. “You're home early?” she mumbled. Her eyes were unpacking him. She knew.

                 “Dinner’s made. The guests will be here soon.” Her expression tightened. He’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times over, yet couldn’t soften it.

                 “I lost it… the case. And the job.” 

                 She froze, midway to the kitchen. Every muscle was rigid, her voice was low and shaky as she uttered: “How?”

                 “I don't know, sweetheart,” he responded, his voice beginning to shake. “I really don't know.” She reached to hug him, but rushed away, saying something about her hair. 

                 Daniel collapsed in his armchair and let out a long sigh. Looking around, he noticed Anita's armchair was strangely untouched. She loved that chair. 

                 His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the apartment door —their guests, of course. Charlie had been his best friend since college, and Anita and Eva got on very well. Dinner together was always fun. His stomach twisted when he got up, but he hadn’t seen them for a while.

                 The door swung open, and there they were — Charlie smiling a little too hard and Eva clinging to his arm. Charlie paced forward and embraced him for a moment too long. “How’ve you been?” Charlie asked him with a strange look in his eye. 

                 Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “I was fired today, actually”.

                 “Oh no, how awful!” Eva exclaimed. Her eyes were full of pity as she hugged him. “Is there anything we can do for you?” 

                 “No, no, it's quite all right.” Eager to move on, he added, “How about we head to the dining room? Anita’s made us a brilliant chicken, it smells amazing!” 

                 He led them into their dining room: a luxurious chicken was sitting in the middle of the table with side dishes around it. Anita always made an incredible chicken dish — he loved her cooking, yet he had little appetite today. Something metallic caught his eye: a piece of tinfoil at the edge of the table. 

                 He went through to the kitchen to bin the foil, while the other two began serving themselves. Something else caught his eye, only for a split second. A black ribbon, he had no memory of. He left the room quickly, pushing the thought aside.

                 He sat down stiffly. As he reached for the chicken, he noticed there were three places set and three chairs filled. Nothing for Anita: no chair, plate or cutlery. He dwelled on that, though, and began helping himself to the peas. They were cold. “Hey guys, do you want me to heat these peas?” Daniel said. An unexpected silence followed, one he seemed unable to escape today. 

                 Charlie looked up from his plate. “Are you sure you can do this?” he asked, emotion filling up his face. “We know how hard it’s been”. His words received a quiet “Charlie!” from Eva, who wore a similar expression. “Let me.”

                 The question took him aback. What about today couldn't he do? Daniel had frozen, waiting for someone to explain. Eva’s eyes darted, and Charlie looked as if he was ready to cry. Slowly, Charlie said, “Do you know where Anita is?”

                 “She’s upstairs, fixing her hair,” Daniel said, uncomfortably aware of a lump in his throat. “Right?”

                 Eva now looked ready to cry. Turning to Charlie, she said, “I’ll tell him, baby, it's ok.”, her voice cracking. Charlie responded gently, whispering, “It’s ok, I know it's been so hard.”

                 Panic rose in Daniel’s throat, and he interrupted, saying, “Tell me what? What’s going on? Charlie, please, what's happening?” His hands were clammy, and his stomach lurched as it had that same morning. It seemed so long ago, going into work that morning. He hadn’t seen Anita that morning either.

                 “Anita’s not coming out, Daniel. She hasn’t been here for weeks”

                 Daniel stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Forcing a laugh, he said, “That's not funny”

                 The ground shifted beneath his feet, as if it was no longer able to hold him. “But, no. That can't be.” he exclaimed, panic creeping into his words. “No, I’ll go get her, you’ll see.”

                 Without another word, Daniel left the room, each breath shorter than the last.

                 He rushed out of the room and found himself outside their bedroom. He knocked softly, and the door creaked open.

                 The rooms were untouched. Pictures of her were everywhere: on the dresser, the bedside table, and the bed. His eyes fell on the bed and the lilies on her side. His knees buckled, unable to take his weight any longer.

                 Behind him, footsteps approached.

                 “Daniel?” Charlie’s voice was kind, but he needed Anita. Eva was sobbing in the dining room, and he could hear her.

                 “I just.. I need a minute” His vision swam, and the scent of the lilies filled his head. He remembered why she’d hated lilies - they were Death’s bouquet, she’d always said. 

                 There would be no lilies at her funeral. He’d bought them anyway — it didn’t matter now.