Roses are red, violet are blue

Chapter 27: Freesia Fragments

The shop was unusually quiet that morning, sunlight streaming through the large glass windows and casting golden patterns on the floor. Lila found solace in the stillness, the hum of life outside muted by the glass that separated her world from the bustling city. She arranged fresh blooms with methodical care, letting the rhythmic motions ease her thoughts.

It was when her fingers brushed over the delicate petals of freesia that the past came rushing back like a wave she wasn't prepared for.

The Memory

James had adored freesias. He would bring home small bundles of them, their soft fragrance filling the room before he even stepped inside. "Freesias are underrated," he'd said once, presenting her with a bouquet. "They're subtle, but they linger. Kind of like love—it's the little things that stay with you the most."

One of her favorite memories was of a surprise James had orchestrated on a particularly gloomy week. Work had been overwhelming, and she had been buried under stress. But James, ever the romantic, had filled their small apartment with freesias. The aroma had hit her the moment she opened the door, warm and inviting.

"James, what is this?" she had asked, laughing despite the heaviness that had been weighing her down all week.

He'd appeared from the kitchen, holding two mugs of tea. "Date night," he had announced with a grin. "Sometimes all you need is a little freesia magic."

They had spent that night talking, laughing, and dancing to soft music in the glow of candlelight. The memory now felt like a distant dream, beautiful but almost too painful to revisit.

The Present

A soft chime at the door broke her reverie. Lila blinked and looked up, surprised to see Ethan standing there. His presence filled the room like a quiet storm, subtle but undeniably magnetic. She hadn't seen him in weeks, and the unexpectedness of his visit unsettled her in a way she couldn't quite define.

"Good morning," Ethan said, his deep voice cutting through the silence. He stepped further inside, his gaze briefly scanning the arrangements before landing on her. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not," Lila said quickly, setting down the bouquet she'd been working on. "I was just...thinking."

Ethan gave her a small, knowing smile. "The flowers seem to do that, don't they? They carry memories."

Lila nodded, surprised by how accurately he'd captured her thoughts. "They do. Sometimes it feels like they hold more of my past than I do."

He approached the counter, his movements unhurried. "I've been meaning to stop by. I've just been…busy." He hesitated, as if he wasn't sure how much to say.

Lila tilted her head, curious. "Busy with what?"

"Just life," Ethan said vaguely, his hands resting on the counter. "But enough about me. How have you been?"

It was a simple question, but the way he asked it—genuine, without pretense—made Lila pause. She wasn't sure how to answer. Most people didn't ask her how she really was; they simply assumed she was fine, or they didn't want to hear the truth.

"I'm managing," she said finally, her voice quieter than she intended.

Ethan's gaze softened. "Managing can be hard. Sometimes harder than people realize."

Something about his words touched a nerve. She looked down at her hands, fiddling with a stray ribbon on the counter. "It's not easy, no. But I guess I've gotten used to it."

"That doesn't mean you have to carry it alone," Ethan said gently.

The words lingered in the air between them, and for a moment, Lila felt a crack in the armor she had spent months building around herself. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear something like that, how much she had been craving a connection that didn't feel forced or shallow.

"Thank you," she said softly, meeting his eyes. "For saying that."

Ethan nodded, his expression unreadable but kind. "I should let you get back to your flowers. I just wanted to check in."

He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Lila found herself calling out, "Ethan?"

He stopped and looked back.

"Do you want to stay for a coffee? I mean, if you're not too busy," she added quickly, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'd like that."

The Conversation

They sat at the small table tucked in the corner of the shop, two steaming cups of coffee between them. For the first time in what felt like forever, Lila felt at ease. Ethan had a way of making silence feel comfortable, as if words weren't always necessary.

They talked about everything and nothing—his work, her shop, the quirks of the city. But it was when the conversation turned to flowers that Lila felt her guard slipping further.

"Do you have a favorite?" Ethan asked, gesturing to the shop around them.

Lila hesitated, her mind flashing back to James and the freesias. "Freesias," she said finally. "They remind me of...someone I loved very much."

Ethan didn't press her for details, and she was grateful for his restraint. Instead, he simply said, "They're beautiful. Fragile but enduring. Kind of like memories."

His words struck a chord, and for the first time, Lila felt a sense of comfort in sharing a piece of her grief. She realized that while the memories of James were bittersweet, they were also a part of her—a reminder of the love she had been lucky enough to experience.

As the morning wore on, Ethan eventually excused himself, leaving Lila with a lingering sense of calm she hadn't felt in months. She watched him leave, his figure disappearing into the sunlight outside.

Reflection

Alone again, Lila returned to the counter and picked up the bouquet of freesias. Their fragrance filled the shop, soft and sweet, wrapping around her like a gentle embrace. She thought of James and the memories they had created together, and for the first time, she didn't feel overwhelmed by the weight of them.

Instead, she felt a quiet gratitude—for the love she had known, for the memories that still lingered, and for the unexpected presence of someone like Ethan, who reminded her that she didn't have to face her grief alone.

Lila smiled faintly, holding the bouquet close. Maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to heal.

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End of Chapter 27.