Roses are red, violet are blue

Chapter 19: Orchid Fragility

The house was quiet, save for the faint creak of the wooden floorboards beneath Lila's feet as she moved through the dimly lit kitchen. The shop had been closed for hours, but the weight of the day lingered, clinging to her like a heavy fog. She set her keys on the counter and sighed, her gaze drifting to the small vase of orchids sitting by the window.

She had brought the orchids home with her—a habit she'd developed after losing James. The flowers she couldn't sell often found a place in her house, filling the empty spaces with color and life, even if they felt like a hollow replacement for what she'd truly lost.

The orchids were delicate, their pale pink petals almost glowing in the soft light of the kitchen. Lila reached out, her fingers brushing against one of the blooms. The texture was smooth, almost velvety, and the sensation triggered a wave of memories she hadn't anticipated.

---

It had been a warm spring evening, and Lila had just come home after finalizing the biggest deal of her career—a contract that would transform her small flower shop into a thriving business. She had been giddy with excitement, the kind of joy that made her feel light and untouchable.

As she opened the door, she found James waiting for her, a bouquet of orchids in his hands. He stood in the living room, his tie slightly loosened, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness.

"You did it," he had said, his voice warm and steady.

Lila had laughed, dropping her bag and rushing to him. "I can't believe it! James, they actually signed the contract!"

"Of course they did," he replied, handing her the orchids. "You're brilliant. I knew this day would come."

She had stared at the orchids, her eyes misting over as she took in their beauty. "Orchids," she murmured, tracing the petals with her fingertips. "Do you know what they symbolize?"

"Success, right?" he said, his tone almost teasing.

"And strength," Lila added, looking up at him. "They're so fragile, but they thrive in the right conditions. They're resilient."

James smiled, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her. "Just like you," he said, his voice soft. "You're strong, Lila. And I'm so proud of you."

She had leaned into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her cheek. In that moment, she had felt invincible, like nothing could ever break her.

---

The memory faded, and Lila blinked, her vision blurred by tears. She sank into a chair by the kitchen table, the weight of her grief pressing down on her chest.

"James," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to do this without you."

The orchids seemed to glow in the darkness, their delicate beauty a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. James had been her anchor, her biggest supporter. Without him, she felt adrift, like a ship lost at sea with no compass to guide her.

She ran her fingers through her hair, her breath hitching as the tears began to fall. The memories of James, once a source of comfort, now felt like shards of glass cutting into her heart. Every moment they had shared, every word he had spoken, was both a blessing and a curse—a reminder of the love she had known and the life she could never have again.

Her gaze fell on the orchids once more, and she thought about their symbolism. Strength. Success. Resilience. She had clung to those qualities for so long, using them as a shield to protect herself from the pain. But tonight, the shield felt too heavy to bear.

"I'm not strong," she said aloud, her voice breaking. "I'm barely holding on."

The words hung in the air, a confession to no one but herself. She had spent so much time trying to keep the shop running, to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but inside, she was crumbling.

The orchids swayed gently in the breeze coming through the open window, their fragility both beautiful and heartbreaking. Lila reached out and cradled one of the blooms in her hand, its softness a stark contrast to the jagged edges of her emotions.

She closed her eyes, letting the memory of James wash over her. His laughter, his warmth, the way he had always believed in her—it all came rushing back, overwhelming her with its intensity.

"Why did you have to leave?" she whispered, her tears falling freely now. "Why couldn't we have had more time?"

The silence of the house offered no answers, only the faint rustle of the orchids as they moved in the breeze.

Lila sat there for what felt like hours, her emotions ebbing and flowing like the tide. The grief was raw and unrelenting, but beneath it, there was something else—a faint glimmer of the strength James had always seen in her.

She thought about the orchids and their resilience, how they thrived despite their fragility. Maybe there was a lesson in that. Maybe she didn't have to be unbreakable. Maybe it was enough to simply survive, to take things one day at a time.

Wiping her tears, Lila took a deep breath and straightened in her chair. The ache in her chest hadn't disappeared, but it felt a little less suffocating now.

She reached for the vase, carefully lifting it and carrying it to the living room. Placing it on the coffee table, she sat down on the couch and stared at the orchids, their beauty soothing in its simplicity.

"Strength," she murmured, tracing a petal with her fingertip. "Maybe I can find it again. For you, James. For us."

The house was still quiet, but the silence felt a little less heavy. The orchids swayed gently, their delicate petals catching the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the window.

And for the first time in a long time, Lila allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to keep moving forward—one fragile step at a time.