Novel & Cerita He Who Wants A Rose Must Respect The Thorn

Asha clasped the note on her chest as warmth filled her. She couldn't comprehend why, but she knew she was really happy. The rose's relaxing scent spread throughout the small netted place, encouraging her to pick up the flower itself. Somehow, anxiousness mixed in between this blissful moment was like the rose’s thorn plucking a thread from the silk pillowcase. It left an ugly protrusion on the cloth and couldn't be mended by simply straightening the cloth. Her finger rubbed the snag, but its ugliness remained.

"The moment we're born, that seed is born with us too. And when the day comes, when we finally meet our mate, the seed grows. They say it grows into everlasting love, joy and peace but mine grew into a fluttering Rose. He came into my life, and brought the smile a Rose gives. His scent basked over me endearingly like a Rose gives. My life flourished and shone beautifully like the redness of the petals itself. But our love was different. It had a lifespan. He was a Rose after all. They say Roses generally have no thorns but my Rose was different. Piercing deep into my fragile heart, gradually draining the beauty of life out of me. Just like the petals fell off, he took every beautiful piece o

"I am just a regular person. In fact, I come from a very poor background. I have no money and no energy to take care of such delicate flowers! "I mustered my courage and tried my best to take care of one, in all 30 years of my life, but I failed in the end. Do you know what else roses have? Thorns. "The thorns keep stabbing into my heart, and the more I struggle, the farther it goes until the pain spreads deep into my bones! I don't want to experience such excruciating pain again in my life!" Aster wasn't stupid. He was smart. He could tell at once what Carina was talking about. However, he got so scared that he couldn't stop his legs from turning into jelly.

Following my gaze, he picked up the most vibrantly blooming rose and tore it apart with his bare hands. Rebecca warned him anxiously, “Mr. Hans, be careful. It has thorns.” He waved the mangled rose and said dismissively, “Who cares if it has thorns? Everything I set my sights on, I either possess or destroy. No matter how sharp the thorns, once the roots are soaked and rotten, they’ll be docile.” He turned his head and ordered the butler coldly, “Water them all to death.” I looked at him in disbelief.

In the next moment, one by one, Blackrose's companions were injured, their clothes stained red with blood. She was keenly aware that if they continued like this, they had no chance of winning. And even she herself was on the brink of losing. "They say that roses have thorns. I'll pluck them from you one by one," her opponent taunted, his attacks growing more ferocious with each passing moment. No! If it went on like this, they would all die here. "Let's see if you can do it!" Blackrose shot a string at her opponent. He dodged instinctively.

When he saw the flower he wanted, he then reached and grabbed it. "Ouch! Shit! That hurts!" The man who never picked roses from its brush swore fiercely in the night. He lowered his voice when thinking that he did not want anybody to hear him. Leo looked at his hand got blood because of the thorns. "Stupid man!" The harsh voice murmured cursing at him. He sucked blood from his fingers, felt something pinching so Leo knew there were a few thorns buried in there somewhere. When he could think, he walked back inside the house and headed to the kitchen. The tall figure looked for a pair of scissors and when he saw them, he grabbed the pair and walked out to the roses again.

"Don't take it too hard. It's been known to drive men mad." "I'm always mad around you Rose. Here—I'll write you an impromptu poem," I cleared my throat and ceremoniously lifted a hand in the air. "Rose is in red, never in blue, sharp as a thorn, fights like one too." "I'm not wearing red." She cocked her head with her brows raised. "Aren't you?" My eyes squinted as the red beams of her aura began to call out to me. Rose hummed to herself, amused once again. "Nice try, quare half."

From the center of the chamber, a rose emerged, its petals a deep crimson but surrounded by the sharpest of thorns. Elder Aria approached it cautiously, "This is the Thorned Rose of Meranthia. Legend speaks of it, a symbol of love that endures. One of you must prove your commitment, your willingness to endure pain for love." Seraphina hesitated, her thoughts racing. She remembered the times Altair had stood by her, the trust they had built. Without a word, she stepped forward, reaching for the rose. As her fingers brushed against the thorns, drops of blood appeared, but she held on, her gaze unwavering.

He doesn't care all he wants to know is what happened to her, that hidden pain she hid in her eyes he would love for her to open up to him. He arrived on the stable ground with a rose in his hand as he approached her, Aurora is more like the rose in his hands. It's a deceptively soft and beautiful plant that sported sharp thorns along its stem. Not just any thorn, but sharp thorns that pierces, but still those thorns did not make her any less appealing to him. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, they only made him want to delve deeper, to peel back her layers and see what he might uncover.

I didn't speak and just poured another whiskey into my glass. "You know, a woman's heart is like a rose. If you try to touch it carelessly, you'll get pricked by its thorns. But if you take a look at it first and you realize that there are thorns, then you'll hold it more carefully. It would die if you don't take care of it but grows beautifully if you do. What I am saying is that, if you really want her, then take care of her. You won't know, maybe someone else is waiting for his turn to pick that rose. And if that happens, you'll never know how beautiful that rose must have been if only you took care of her."