Roses are red, violet are blue

Chapter 17: Tulip Tears

The lavender's calming fragrance lingered as Lila tidied up the shop. The rhythmic motion of arranging flowers provided her with a fragile sense of focus, but her mind remained restless. The memory of quiet nights with James, sipping tea on the porch, left a hollow ache in her chest.

She moved to the cooler, her hands brushing against the smooth petals of tulips. A vivid burst of colors greeted her—reds, yellows, pinks, purples, and whites. The sight of the multicolored tulips struck her unexpectedly, and she froze.

The vibrant display reminded her of a different moment, a different James—a version of him who had known exactly how to lift her spirits. Her fingers lingered over the blooms as the memory came rushing back.

---

It had been a terrible week.

Work had been a whirlwind of demanding clients and endless deadlines. Every night, Lila had come home exhausted, barely finding the energy to eat dinner before collapsing into bed. Her temper had been shorter than usual, and James, ever patient, had let her vent without judgment.

By Friday, she was running on fumes. She had stumbled through the front door that evening, her bag slipping from her shoulder as she kicked off her shoes. She barely noticed the vase of tulips on the kitchen counter until James appeared behind her.

"Rough week?" he asked, his voice warm and steady.

She nodded, her shoulders sagging. "Rough doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Well," he said, reaching for the vase, "I thought you could use a little color."

He held the tulips out to her, their vibrant hues a striking contrast to the dull gray cloud she felt like she was carrying.

"Multicolored?" she asked, her lips twitching despite her exhaustion.

"Of course," James replied. "Life isn't just one color, is it? Even the toughest days need a little brightness."

His words, so simple and earnest, melted the knot in her chest. She took the vase from him, her eyes filling with tears.

"They're beautiful," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"So are you," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Even when you're exhausted and grumpy."

Lila laughed, a real, genuine laugh that felt like the first breath of fresh air after being underwater. The tulips had stayed on the counter for weeks, their bright petals a daily reminder of James's thoughtfulness and the way he always knew exactly what she needed.

---

The memory hit Lila like a wave, the sharp clarity of it stealing her breath. She gripped the edge of the counter, her knees threatening to buckle as the weight of her emotions overwhelmed her.

Her vision blurred with tears, and she clutched at the tulips in her hands, their delicate stems trembling under her touch. The shop, usually her sanctuary, now felt suffocating, the air thick with the echoes of a life she could no longer reach.

She sank onto the stool behind the counter, the tulips still in her grasp. The colors seemed too vivid, too alive, and it felt like a cruel joke that they could exist when James no longer did.

"Why did you have to go?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why did you leave me here alone?"

The grief she had been holding back for so long broke free, spilling over in sobs that wracked her body. She pressed the tulips to her chest, as though their fragile beauty could somehow fill the gaping void in her heart.

Time seemed to stand still as she cried, the shop silent except for her ragged breaths. She thought about James and his ability to find light in the darkest moments, his knack for reminding her that even the hardest days had something worth holding onto.

But now, without him, those colors felt dimmer. The world had lost its vibrancy, and she wasn't sure if she would ever find it again.

Eventually, her tears began to slow, leaving her drained but strangely lighter. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, her gaze falling on the tulips she had clutched so tightly. Their petals were slightly crumpled, but they were still beautiful—still colorful.

James's voice echoed in her mind: "Even the toughest days need a little color."

She placed the tulips back on the counter, arranging them carefully in a vase. The act felt small but significant, a way of honoring the memory of the man who had always known how to brighten her world.

The bell above the shop door chimed, and Lila looked up to see a young couple entering, their hands intertwined. They were laughing, their faces lit with the kind of joy she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Hi," the woman said, glancing at the tulips. "These are gorgeous. Could you make a bouquet with them?"

Lila hesitated, her hands hovering over the blooms. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she could let them go. But then she thought of James, of the way he had always shared his light with others, and she nodded.

"Of course," she said, her voice steady.

As she arranged the bouquet, she felt a strange sense of peace. The tulips had brought her back to James, to a memory that was as painful as it was precious. And now, they would bring joy to someone else, continuing the cycle of love and light that James had believed in so deeply.

She handed the finished bouquet to the couple, her smile genuine.

"They're perfect," the woman said, beaming.

As the couple left, the shop grew quiet once more. Lila stared at the empty space where the tulips had been, her heart heavy but not as hollow as before.

She had lost so much, but she still had the memories—bright, vivid, and alive. And maybe, in some small way, those memories were her way of carrying James with her, even in his absence.

Taking a deep breath, Lila wiped her hands on her apron and returned to her work. The tulips were gone, but their colors lingered in her mind, a reminder that even in the depths of grief, there was room for beauty.