Greenhouse Aesthetic Novels & Stories

She felt the weight of invisible gazes. They walked further, past the main garden and toward a tall fence covered in thick, green vines. Just behind the fence sat a small, quiet greenhouse. It was a structure of glass and white metal, looking peaceful and out of place. Lorenzo led her toward the door. Hailey had visited this estate a few times, but she realized she had never been to this specific corner of the property. She felt a spark of curiosity, but she wasn't scared. They stepped inside the greenhouse. The air inside was humid and thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming lilies. It was incredibly neat, with rows of exotic plants arranged on white metal shelves. The glass walls w

In their place was a charming Southern aesthetic—warm tones, soft textures, leafy greens, and whimsical touches. I stood there, stunned. “What happened here?” I asked aloud. Ian smiled as he set my bags down. “Mr. Wynn thought you might not like the old decor. He wanted to surprise you.” Then he added reassuringly, “Everything in here is non-toxic. No formaldehyde. Some of the pieces are antiques, completely safe.” I slowly walked through the space, taking in the details. My fingers brushed the edge of a rustic table, a soft couch, a cluster of fresh lavender.

Or if Kane's gardener saw it, he'd throw the tile away for me. I turned three hundred and sixty degrees to scan this house. What I want to do after this depends on what interests me from the brief scan I just did. And the first thing that caught my eyes in this house was the greenhouse to the left of the main building. It was like the greenhouse that I often see in classic fairy tales with wooden doors and wooden frames that stand tall against beautiful transparent glass. The greenhouse will protect the plants from various kinds of weather that can sometimes be violent. Especially in winter like this.

All sides on the greenhouse is covered with glass walls, small trees and plants, some are indoors, some are flowers. The whole greenhouse was lit up with soft lights, I walked in the middle their a big L-shaped couch was presented. I looked up and it gives me a view of full moon and stars, so I thanked my stars and lay down on it, I was feeling a little cold, but shrugging that I lay down on the couch hugging myself, as a tear slipped from my eyes, by thinking the past events which brings me here.

I want to taste that so fucking badly. A roaring voice makes me jerk my head to the side. My brows furrow as I stare at her home. It’s a beautiful duplex, grand enough to be tagged to a rich family but not grand enough to be referred to as a mansion. At the side of the front part of the building is a curved window wall which on a normal day will give a decent insight inside the building without thick, long curtains hanging down from the inside. The front rustic pathway is kneaded with large pebbles and a nicely attended to garden beautifies both sides of the environment. If the small iron gate dividing the building from neighbouring houses and the road was opened further, there’ll be a good

Naturally, I opened it. The scent hit me first—moist earth, green things. I stepped inside and blinked. It was a greenhouse. Hidden and alive. Plants of every kind. Vines creeping up the walls. Tall stalks of bamboo rustling even without wind. Orchids. Citrus trees in miniature. Somewhere in the middle, a glass table with two chairs. Untouched. Like someone had meant to come back and never did. “Huh,” I whispered, brushing a hand over a bloom that looked almost too perfect to be real. “Didn’t think Luca Moretti had a thing for flowers.”

When I finally lifted my head, he brushed my tears away with the gentlest touch—like he was afraid he might break me if he pressed too hard. “This place is yours,” he murmured again, as if he needed me to understand. “Not borrowed. Not shared. Yours.” I turned slowly, taking in every inch of the greenhouse with new eyes. Sunlight filtered through the glass in soft gold ribbons, landing on petals in shades so vivid they almost glowed. Deep purples, soft pinks, whites like fresh snow. Vines climbed the metal supports, leaves glinting as the light shifted. It didn’t feel like something built—it felt grown.

They nodded in approval. I didn’t argue when they blow-dried my hair and styled it like I was meeting royalty. When they pulled out the makeup brushes, I shook my head. “No makeup. I don’t want—” “Master only sees the best,” the head maid said, already dabbing concealer under my eyes. I gulped. “Does your master have a name?” No answer. Of course they wouldn’t respond. The greenhouse looked like a dream painted in golds and greens. A glass room filled with overgrown orchids and rare roses and little hanging pots that dripped like teardrops from the ceiling.

he explained, gesturing to the tinted glass that let in very little sunlight. Alexandra reached out and unlocked the door using a keypad—Scott had whispered the code. "Isn't this a lot of security for a greenhouse?" she asked with a curious smile. "You'll see why," he laughed, and the moment they stepped inside… she understood. It was stunning. The space was about ten meters long and five wide. The soft glow of the chandeliers reflected off the glass and shone down on the garden beds, where some of the plants were more protected from the light than others. The air was cool, humid, and carried the soothing scent of wildflowers.

I knew my mom would be pissed that I was even considering marrying this man, but the thought of him with someone else made a ball of furious rage form in my chest. I swallow as we stop in front of a high entry way covered by hanging flowers. "Have fun, Lady Delilah." I smile at Chepi and walk through the flowers. Here we go. The greenhouse was probably twenty feet by twenty feet, with rounded edges rather than squared like the rest of the rooms. The ceiling was replaced with a crisscrossing wood pattern, no glass though, just vines and flowers and moss climbing over the wood. I wondered if it'd form a natural roof one day. The sides of the room have rows of seedlings just barely sprouting, f