I made my own birthday bouquet

Dear Delyara, I own a flower shop, and today was my birthday. My husband forgot. My sister remembered at five in the afternoon and sent a message with three heart emojis. Customers came in all day buying roses for apologies, lilies for funerals, peonies for anniversaries, and one extravagant arrangement for a woman turning thirty. At closing time, I selected six pale pink ranunculus, wrapped them in brown paper, and tied them with the cream ribbon we reserve for special orders. I wrote “Happy birthday, Claire” on the card in my own handwriting. When I carried the bouquet home, my husband looked at it and said, “Who sent those?” I told him a customer had canceled an order. He believed me. The flowers are in a vase on the dining table now. They are beautiful. I keep looking at them and feeling embarrassed, as though buying kindness for myself is evidence that nobody else wanted the job. Still, I chose the freshest stems. I suppose some part of me believed I deserved flowers, even if I had to know exactly how much they cost.