Roses are red, violets are blue

Chapter 30: The Memory Bouquet

The morning sunlight seeped into the shop, spilling over the wooden countertops and illuminating the floral arrangements Lila had been working on. The air smelled of roses and violets, a bittersweet mix of fragrances that seemed to mirror her emotions. She was lost in thought, arranging stems of lilies and violets, when her gaze fell on a few daisies scattered on the counter.

They were James's favorite.

Her hands stilled as memories washed over her. She could see James crouched in a field of daisies during one of their picnics, plucking the delicate petals. He had held one up, playing the old game: "She loves me, she loves me not." With each pluck, his eyes sparkled mischievously, and when he reached the final petal—"She loves me!"—he had leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Lila closed her eyes, letting the memory linger for a moment. But it wasn't just the daisies. It was everything: the lilies he'd brought her for their third date, the violets he'd tucked behind her ear, the roses he'd filled their home with on Valentine's Day. Every corner of the shop held a fragment of James, as though he were still there, just out of reach.

The bell above the shop door chimed, pulling her back to the present. A young woman walked in, cradling a bundle of baby's breath and tulips. Lila offered her a polite smile and directed her to the counter.

But as the customer browsed, Lila's mind drifted again, this time to the bouquet she had started assembling. She wasn't sure why she was doing it—why she was combining lilies, violets, daisies, and roses into a single arrangement. It felt as though her hands were moving on their own, compelled by something deeper.

As she added more flowers, the bouquet took shape, vibrant and full of life. It was a silent tribute to James, each flower a representation of a memory they had shared. The lilies symbolized their new beginnings, the violets their quiet, tender moments, the daisies their carefree laughter, and the roses their deep, passionate love.

When she was finished, she placed the bouquet in the shop window. The sunlight caught the petals, making them glow softly. Lila stepped back, her chest tightening as she stared at it.

"It's perfect," a voice said from behind her.

She turned to see Clara standing in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee. Clara smiled, handing one to Lila.

"I wasn't sure if you'd eaten, so I thought I'd stop by," Clara said, her tone light but her eyes full of concern.

Lila took the coffee gratefully, sipping it as she leaned against the counter. "Thank you."

Clara followed her gaze to the bouquet in the window. "That's beautiful. Did you make it for someone special?"

Lila hesitated, then nodded. "James. It's for him. Or maybe…it's for me, too. I don't know."

Clara placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's okay not to have all the answers. You're allowed to feel everything—grief, love, confusion. It's all part of healing."

Lila nodded, her throat tight. She looked down at the coffee in her hands, the steam curling upward, and took a deep breath. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm drowning in memories. But then, other times…they're all I have left of him. And I don't want to let them go."

"You don't have to let them go," Clara said softly. "Memories are part of you, just like James was. But they don't have to hold you back. They can guide you forward."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of another customer. Lila recognized her immediately—Rachel.

Rachel strolled in, her movements elegant and deliberate. Her fiancé had placed an order for their wedding flowers earlier in the week, and Lila had spent hours ensuring everything was perfect. Despite their history, Lila had committed herself to professionalism.

"Good morning," Lila greeted, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her stomach.

Rachel smiled, the kind of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm here to pick up the flowers for the wedding."

"Of course," Lila said, moving to the back of the shop to retrieve the order.

The arrangement was stunning: white roses, pink peonies, and touches of baby's breath. As Lila carried it to the counter, Rachel's fiancé stepped in, greeting Rachel with a quick kiss before excusing himself to take a phone call.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Rachel's demeanor changed. The polite façade dropped, replaced by a cold, almost smug expression.

"I must say, Lila," Rachel began, her tone sharp, "this shop is…quaint. It has potential, but it could really use some modernizing. You know, a little makeover."

Lila stiffened but kept her expression neutral. "Thank you for your feedback."

Rachel's smile turned cruel. "I'm sure James would have agreed. He always did have a good eye for beauty."

The words were a dagger, but Lila refused to let them pierce too deeply. She reminded herself of Clara's words earlier: You're allowed to feel everything—but you don't have to let it hold you back.

Rachel continued, her voice dripping with condescension. "I suppose it's fitting, though. After all, flowers are meant to be temporary, aren't they? Like…memories."

Lila met Rachel's gaze, her voice calm but firm. "Memories may fade, but love doesn't. And James taught me that love is worth celebrating, no matter how painful it is to remember."

Rachel's smirk faltered, but before she could respond, her fiancé returned. He wrapped an arm around her waist, oblivious to the tension.

"These are beautiful," he said, admiring the flowers. "Thank you for your hard work."

Lila managed a small smile. "Congratulations on your wedding. I hope it's everything you dreamed of."

As they left, the bell chimed again, and the shop fell quiet. Clara stepped beside Lila, her expression unreadable.

"You handled that well," Clara said.

"Did I?" Lila asked, her voice shaky.

"Yes," Clara said firmly. "You didn't let her break you. And that's progress."

Lila turned back to the bouquet in the window, her heart heavy but her spirit steadier. Grief was still a constant companion, but today, it felt a little less overwhelming.

For the first time in a long time, Lila felt a flicker of hope. The memories of James—the lilies, the violets, the daisies, the roses—weren't chains holding her down. They were the roots of a love that would always be part of her, giving her strength to grow.

And as she stood there, watching the sunlight dance across the petals, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could learn to celebrate life again.