Blossom And Brick Novels & Stories

She handed the larger bouquet of roses to me first. I took it and held it in my arms. Smiling at her, I said, "Thank you." "You're welcome," Willow said before turning to hand the other bouquet to Julian. "Congratulations on your marriage." The usual coldness on Julian's face had disappeared. Instead, a faint smile appeared on his face. "Congratulations to us all." After giving us the flowers, Willow strutted proudly toward the car, her voice filled with satisfaction. "You two are so lucky to have such an obedient and adorable kid like me."

And then I saw them. Lilies. Rows and rows of them, stretching out in quiet elegance beneath a wooden arch trellis wrapped in climbing jasmine. Ivory petals, some with pink centers, some kissed with gold, all open like they were bowing to the morning sun. The breeze made them sway just slightly, like they were dancing to a song only they could hear. I stopped walking. “You planted these?” I asked, breath catching in my throat. Adam nodded beside me, and for once he wasn’t smug or teasing—he was just... still. Calm. “Last month. I asked Bridgette to help source the best bulbs. I wanted them to bloom now. For when you’d be here.”

I said flowers are not useless and that they have a deeper meaning than what we see or know about them. I smiled as all these thoughts ran through my head. "My girl is in her lover girl era." Kate nudged me and took the white envelope sticking out on the bouquet. "To the most beautiful, elegant and adorable wife of mine. I hope this bouquet makes you smile and make your day better. Lots of love, Carter." She read out and gushed "I need my prince charming right now." She screamed and everyone laughed As we were all gushing over the bouquet and the arrangements, another knock came. "What other surprises are yet to be launched?" Emily winked at me as she went to get the door.

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

A coy smirk forms on my lips as I start talking again. “This morning, the Blossom headquarters which has just been completed and set to start operations next month was burnt to the ground and investigations are still ongoing about how the fire started but even without the investigations, I will have you know that I am aware of the perpetrator of this act but that will be my secret for now, I do not want to drag my ex wife into this saga. And also, the news of most of our top investors pulling out has already spread but I can assure you that we are working on it. Blossom has come to stay and I will make sure of that. We have worked so hard and this little setback will not hinder our efforts.

The plate rack was placed right before the cooker. Dappled sunlight trickled into the kitchen through the window blinds. At the extreme end of the kitchen cabinet were two flower vases filled with blooming jasmines. I had made sure to water them that morning. The kitchen lights shone on the sparkling kitchen tiles of brown and creamy colours.

I clenched my hands tighter as the pain in my palm seared. … I had no idea how long we walked for. The sun seemed to have climbed to its peak. I was finally allowed to remove the blindfold. Before me stretched a winding, narrow path that ended in a bottomless cave. Beside it stood a towering, ancient tree. Its scent of osmanthus drifted even from afar. The villagers said the tree had absorbed the essence of countless Blossom Brides. That was what made it so tall and fragrant. When we were thirty feet away from the cave, the procession abruptly stopped.

She thought about all the creek conversations — her and Stellan, her and Delia, the Tuesday with Voss Callander's provisional decision. She put the stone on the windowsill. It stayed there. May, the garden. She brought Breen to the east garden on the first Saturday that was warm enough. The rose was budding. The clematis was in its third full year — Delia had been right, as Delia was right about growing things. The third year was the established year, the year of the full expression. The clematis climbed the opposite wall with the committed ambition of something that had been doing its root work for three years and was now ready to show it.

Noa sees the jasmine building across the way and has been working on understanding it for two weeks — the particular green against the stone, the occasional movement of something in the wind. On a Saturday morning in late March, Valentina carries them both to the window — one on each arm, which she has been doing with the practiced ease of someone whose body learned quickly how to be in two places simultaneously — and shows them the Gràcia street below. The Saturday morning doing what Saturday mornings do: the bakery with the queue that has been forming at the same time since before she arrived in this apartment. The plane trees in their early-spring state, leaves returning in the specific s

“Good morning everyone. As some of you might already know, I’m professor Astor, but you can call me Elio. I’m your assistant professor for modern literature.” While the guys mummured about how chill their professor was, the girls giggled at his handsome masculinity. Except Vanessa of course. She was mortified. It felt like they were doing something wrong. How would she explain that Professor Astor had seen her naked in a tub before, or that he had picked her rose toy off the floor? She just hoped that she would be able to survive this. Since she got to Brooklyn, she had been going through one drama or the other. While she didn't entirely hate her experience, she was mortified by it. Now that