Roses are red, violet are blue

Chapter 15: A Vivid Violet Memory

The scent of sunflowers still lingered in the air as the afternoon light began to fade. Lila stood by the counter, her hands absently rearranging a vase of tulips. The rhythmic motions of her work were soothing, but her mind kept circling back to the sunflowers and the tender memory they had stirred.

The bell above the door chimed softly, breaking her reverie. She looked up to see an older man entering the shop, carrying a small bundle of violets wrapped in simple brown paper. He had a warm, weathered face and a gentle smile, but it was the flowers in his hands that caught her attention.

Violets.

Their delicate purple petals seemed to glow in the fading light, a stark contrast to the earthy green of their leaves. Something about them tugged at Lila's heart, a feeling she couldn't quite place.

"Good afternoon," the man said, approaching the counter. "I was hoping you could help me with something."

"Of course," Lila replied, slipping into her professional demeanor. "What can I do for you?"

The man placed the violets on the counter with care, as though they were a precious treasure. "These were my wife's favorite. I'd like to put them in a special vase—something simple, but elegant. It's our anniversary today."

Lila's chest tightened at his words, her smile faltering for the briefest moment. She quickly recovered, nodding as she reached for a small vase from the shelf behind her.

"This one might be perfect," she said, holding up a sleek glass vase.

The man examined it, his eyes softening. "Yes, that's lovely. She would have liked it."

As Lila arranged the violets in the vase, their subtle fragrance filled the air. The delicate blooms seemed to whisper of something long forgotten, stirring a memory that began to take shape in her mind.

---

It had been their second anniversary. Lila had come home from work late, tired and frazzled after a long day. The apartment was dark when she entered, and for a moment, she thought James wasn't home.

"James?" she called out, setting her bag down by the door.

"Out here," his voice replied, faint but unmistakable.

She followed the sound to the balcony, her heart skipping a beat when she stepped outside.

The small space had been transformed into a makeshift garden. String lights hung overhead, casting a warm glow over the scene. Pots and containers of violets lined the railing, their vibrant purple blossoms shimmering in the light. In the center of it all was James, holding a tray with two glasses of wine and a small plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.

"Happy anniversary," he said, his grin wide and boyish.

Lila's breath caught as she took in the sight. "James… what is this?"

"A garden," he said simply, setting the tray down on the small table. "Or, well, the closest thing I could manage. I know you've been missing the one at your parents' house, so I thought I'd bring a little piece of it here."

Her hands flew to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. "You did all this for me?"

He shrugged, his grin softening. "You deserve it. Besides, violets are your favorite, right? They mean 'faithfulness.' Seemed appropriate for today."

Lila laughed, the sound shaky with emotion. "You're unbelievable."

"Unbelievably in love with you," he quipped, pulling her into his arms.

They spent the evening on the balcony, sipping wine and talking about everything and nothing. The violets surrounded them, their scent mingling with the crisp night air. It was one of those rare, perfect moments that felt as though it would last forever.

---

The memory faded, leaving Lila standing in her shop, the violets still in her hands. Her chest ached with the weight of it, the vividness of the memory both a comfort and a torment.

She placed the violets in the vase, adjusting their stems with a precision that belied the turmoil in her heart. The man watched her work, his expression thoughtful.

"Beautiful," he said softly when she was finished. "She would've loved this."

Lila smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's a lovely gesture. I'm sure she'd be touched."

The man nodded, his gaze distant. "We had fifty years together. She's been gone for five now, but I still like to celebrate. It makes me feel closer to her."

Lila's breath hitched at his words, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. She didn't trust herself to respond, afraid her voice would betray her.

The man seemed to sense her struggle, his smile tinged with understanding. "Losing someone you love… it's not something you ever get over. But the memories—they're a gift, even when they hurt."

Lila blinked back tears, nodding as she handed him the vase. "Thank you for sharing that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took the vase, his hands steady despite their age. "Thank you for taking such care with them. Have a good day, young lady."

As the man left the shop, the violets cradled carefully in his arms, Lila leaned against the counter, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

The memory of James and the makeshift garden felt so real, so tangible, that she could almost hear his laughter, feel the warmth of his arms around her. She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely.

"James," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I miss you so much."

The violets on the counter seemed to glow in the fading light, their delicate petals a reminder of the love she had lost. But they were also a symbol of something more—a love that had been steadfast, unwavering, and true.

And perhaps, as painful as it was, that love would always be with her, blooming quietly in the corners of her heart.