Love Is A Rose Novels & Stories

"Don't get angry and don't get sick again, okay?" Rose nodded as she pouted. "Previously, I have been healthy and never got sick all year round! When I met you, my immune system had weakened! Your aura is too strong! Then... grow me some more roses! Red roses represent fiery love. I hope our love and marriage will last for a long time and be prosperous forever! Hubby, you will always care about me..." It would be perfect if he could pamper and spoil her like this for a lifetime! Although she understood that no matter how fiery love was, there was a shelf life. It would become bland in the end.

Leo asked: "and what?." Rose with a broken heart: “You have a girl who has never loved a man, a girl who has loved you since she first laid her eyes on you.” Rose shed tears, saying, "I tried so hard not to love you. I hated you. I did everything not to love you, and I failed." "She knows what you're doing is wrong, but she doesn't care anymore. She just wants you to love her. Even if you never loved her, she will love you until the last moment of her life."

Each step was a gentle tug on the thread of her past, pulling her closer to the truth she sought. One sunny afternoon, as Katie strolled through a fragrant rose garden, her gaze fell upon a solitary white rose, standing tall and proud among a sea of vibrant colors. Its pristine petals symbolized the purity of her love for Rose, a love that had never wavered, despite the confusion and pain that had come to define their relationship.

Rose whispered, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. Liam, understanding her silent message, nodded and lifted his arms, allowing Rose to slide the black shirt off his body. He stood before her, his bare chest basking in the sunlight, as if shedding the weight of the world. Rose embraced him tightly, her arms encircling his torso. She felt his warmth and the rhythm of his heartbeat, solidifying their connection. Together, they stood amidst the fragrant garden, a testament to the beauty of love and the transformative power of embracing life's vibrant hues.

Tears rolled down her cheeks thinking about this. Roman stopped before her. "I got you red roses because they're said to be the most beautiful type of Rose but I know that isn't true because you're the most beautiful type of Rose. You're kind, caring, loving and so beautiful. I love how you treat people and how disciplined you are. Most of all, you're perfect, Rose. " Roman gave her the flowers. Rose collected the flowers and took a deep breath, taking in the nice scent of the flower. "I love you, Rose." Roman knew he had to say this sooner or later. Saying it felt like a burden had been taken down from his shoulders. He had those words in his chest and he knew he had to get it out someway.

Then, gently she walked towards one of the flower arrangements and started talking. “Red rose – it’s one of the most popular of all flowers. There is no reason… other than because it is the universal symbol of love, romance, and beauty,” Lia softly said. As she talked, she carefully reached out and caressed a red rose. Her innocent and pure image, together with the bold red color of the rose, created an image so beautiful enough to take my breath away. “A bouquet of red roses always speaks of ‘I love you’ in the purest form… and a single, long-stemmed red rose given between lovers means ‘You are still the one I love,’” Lia added.

A fucked up asshole. My hands are soothingly rubbing onto her back, trying to at least let her feel some sort of comfort. Spending months and months with Rose has made me realise how love can cause so much pain in so many different ways. She has been lost and fragile ever since she left him; unwillingly left him.

I stated. “ Yes, Detective Claude,” she nodded. She put on disposable gloves, we didn't want to get our hand prints on potential clues and evidence of course. “ Name of flower, please,” “ The first one here is the red rose, sir,” she took out one of the roses and handed it to me. “ Hmmm... Interesting,” I inspected it through my magnifying glass. “ Red roses are a symbol of deep love and passion. So whoever is behind this must deeply be in love with mom, they could have shared a passionate love at some point or maybe the person hopes to,”

"What a sturdy chest you've got there!" Coldly, I took her hands away from my chest. "I know, I hear that a lot." "Huh!" she responded giddily, her hazel eyes staring back into mine. There was something about those eyes that I could not fathom. It was as though she was screaming for help. There was a glint of hurt and sadness in them. "Her business is not my cup of tea." I thought, looking away. She leant closer to me and a whiff of her sweet smelling perfume infiltrated my nostrils. She had a unique smell of rose petals.

FIVE YEARS AGO... In the sprawling estate of the Montague mansion, where ivy climbed the walls like whispers of forgotten secrets and the scent of roses lingered in the air like the promise of eternal love, Isabella Montague stood at the grand window of her boudoir with a porcelain cup cradled in her slender fingers. Bathed in the soft morning light, she exuded an air of serene elegance, her delicate features illuminated by the golden rays that filtered through the sheer curtains. Slowly, she sipped her morning coffee savoring it's taste while the rich aroma mingle with the sweet scent of freshly-cut flowers that adorned the room. Her gaze drifted wistfully over the manicured gardens below,