The following morning, my nose got tickled by the large spectrum of aroma coming from a familiar type of flower. When I open my eyes, I instantly witness how I was drowning inside my bedroom filled with roses in different sorts of bouquet arrangements and forms. There was nothing that immediately came to my head other than to call Leandro. I pressed on the beeper beside my bed about multiple times in a row until he came rushing inside the room.
I immediately noticed his struggle to walk above the pool of bouquets, and though I feel disturbed for calling for him so rashly; this whole setup just made me more uncomfortable than him. “Leandro, who put these flowers inside this room?” gone is my moderate voice when I asked him.
As his usual gesture, Leandro places a hand above his chest as he addresses my query. “Our master sent these for you. Last night must have been an inharmonious meeting between the two of you, therefore, he is sending these to eat a humble pie.” He even dares to spe
