Handkerchief Vase Novels & Stories

I began, hoping that I would be able to clarify things between us and not give her false hope. “It’s alright, I know,” she interrupted me, and my brows shot up. “I know I am not the one. But...” her lips trembled, “I don’t care. I’ll be happy if you just let me be at your side.” She looked down and pulled out something from her coat. “You remember this?” She asked, and I frowned. It was a handkerchief with the Valeford’s crest on it. “This is my handkerchief,” I said, not exactly remembering how it came to her.

We said our goodbye and I shut the door. I place them on the table and before getting back to work I examen the gift. The vase was a crystal green filled half way with water. While the out layer of the arrangement had white roses the middle showed a single pink and white orchid demanding attention. Around the orchid were a few pink camelias. I reached for the card but I was puzzled. There was no indications as to whom it was from. It only read To: Ava. I just chalked it up to a fan that admired Ava’s work and was too shy to include detail about themselves.

His face went from happy to gradually gloomy. James quickly called others to have an expensive vase delivered. Twenty minutes later, a vase from a master of traditional carving was delivered. This vase had previously been sold at an auction for a staggering price of twenty million. Because it was a unique item, the price would continue to rise in the future. Hunter looked at the vintage bottle, his furrowed brow instantly relaxed as he placed the plum blossom inside. "Barely." He said these two words and took the elevator with a plum blossom in his arms.

She giggles a little and shakes her head, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Ev..." she whines and I chuckle. "They're for you, sweets. You still have that vase I gave you?" I ask and she nods, walking towards the kitchen I follow her and watch her open a high cupboard where it seems the vase is the only thing in it. "It gets a whole cupboard all to itself?" I ask and she nods as she starts to fill it with water. "I didn't want it to get broken. It's special." she says, her voice taking on a shy quality that I'm not used to.

I turned my attention back to the display. As I moved along the line of pieces, one caught my eye—a tall, narrow vase with a glossy midnight base and a wild, flared rim streaked in copper and burnt orange. I froze. I knew that shape. I’d opened something just like it—on my wedding day. Damien had wrapped it in crinkled brown paper, grinning as I unwrapped it, saying, “This one’s messy, but it made me think of you. Passion and fire, remember?”

he asked, his tone sharp and accusing. “It doesn’t matter. But please… take this,” she said, stepping forward and offering him a delicate, embroidered handkerchief she held tightly in her hands. “What is this for?” “It’s a thank-you gift. It’s… it’s a very precious handkerchief I’ve kept for years,” she said quietly. Racheal expected him to throw it away or reject it, but surprisingly, he took it. He held it gently, nodded once, and walked away without another word.

I glanced at her retreating figure, then back at the vase, the desire for revenge burning hot in my chest. Without thinking, I rushed toward the vase, my hand wrapping around its base as I lifted it. My heart raced, my vision blurred by the tears that had begun to spill down my cheeks. I raised the vase above my head, ready to strike, but just as I was about to bring it down on her, a sudden grip tightened around my wrist.