Black Roses for Her
Perhaps he had not loved me for a long time now.
It was my fault for never noticing—for stupidly believing that true love would never die.
Now, Lara smiled as she leaned against the doorway, purring so softly her voice could melt anything, "I heard you made pasta. Can I have a bowl? With minced ginger, please. My cravings are really terrible these days."
"You've got it," John grinned lovingly. "Who would spoil my baby if not me?"
Still, he soon paused when he inadvertently noticed the black roses outside. "I'll tell the gardener to uproot those flowers. They remind me of Claire's disgusting face—I don't want them to hurt our eyes!"
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