Rosaline Glass Novels & Stories

"Then what is wrong with me? She cried. "Why do I feel so much pain? She added. "Why can't I see much? She cried all the more, and just like before, she is about to go fall on Gordon again, when Rosaline spoke up. "You are going to mess up his blue shirt with your make up". Gordon was shocked, because he wasn't wearing a blue shirt, but Rosaline knew exactly what she was doing. "You know this is sky blue Lewin shirt and you want to........... "Oh shut it miss. This is Grey Tom Hilfiger not blue". Then Rosaline started clapping.

Suddenly, the smoke shifts, and I see the glass greenhouse at the edge of the cliff. But it isn't beautiful anymore. The thousands of white roses on the floor are dead, turned into black ash. The thousands of candles have melted into pools of liquid wax that look like tears. And standing right in the center of the ruins, under the broken crystal chandelier, is Rosalina.

She was telling me that only) "Shayari teased " Do not worry i know how to make her happy. "Zarun said with a wink " I will take my leave now, you both come together. "Shayari said and left from there " is my wife still angry with me? "Zarun asked " you did nothing to make me less angry "Zeenat said " Gulaab ka rang laal hona uski khasiyat hai Aur apni khafa hui begum ko manana hamari khasiyat hai (Rose being red is it's specialty and making my angry wife calm is mine) "Zarun said and handed a box to Zeenat

Rosemary's fingers lingered on the rim of the glass for a heartbeat. She raised the spiked red wine to her lips, her smile serene, reminiscent of a pristine white lotus. The glass made its way to Bradley. "A toast to you, Bradley." He accepted the glass, his eyes briefly catching the subtle tremble of her fingertips. Without a word, he raised the glass to his lips and drained it in one swift motion. Rosemary's gaze fell, and she tapped her spoon against the rim of her now-empty glass three times: a clear, sharp sound that was lost amidst the clinking of glasses, yet it struck a chord in me, sending a jolt through my heart.

Those were blissfully naive times. Issabelle was in awe, she had never seen a room so extravagant, filthy but extravagant. She was watching Rose to see what emotions would show on her face as she felt the bed linens and picked up the opal brush that still had strands of her mother’s hair. As Issabelle noticed Rose’s color rise and the tears come to her eyes, she began mumbling, “all this dust and cobwebs, how can you see anything in here?! I’ll ask the maids to come in and give it a proper clean down mistress.” Rose lifted her head out of her revery and remarked “don’t change anything, i want it all left exactly how it is!”

I sat there watching his every move ,but I could tell he knew I was watching him. He turned in my directing of course still cooking and gestured to the glass in front of me. I grabbed the glass and began to take a sip. I don't usually drink this early in the day, but I guess one glass of wine won't hurt right. Before I finished the glasses the food was done and he placed a plate in front of me. Before he sat down to eat he refilled the glass. I started to eat dinner when he sat down and began to eat too. About halfway through the plate of food I was becoming thirsty.

Frowning, he went to pull the door shut and it hit something, a thud sounding towards the bottom of the door. Chris lowered his gaze to the floor, and blinked in surprise, stuck between the door and the wall, was a little red rose in a tiny but elegant glass shaped like a crescent moon, the inside hardened with…resin? He picked it up, and saw the tiny thorns surrounding the rose inside. Blinking, he curled his fingers around the item and jogged lightly down the stairs, two at a time. __________________

He could almost feel the weight of that hair against his skin, the specific jasmine scent that always clung to her silk dresses. She looked devastating. That was the problem. Raiyan realized he hadn't moved in thirty seconds. He put his glass down on the table, the clack of the crystal loud against the ambient bass of the lounge. She didn't see him coming. That was intentional. He approached from behind, leaning in close enough that his voice would reach only her. "You didn't reply to my text," he said quietly into her ear. She was startled. The rosé tilted dangerously before she caught it. She turned, her eyes — no glasses tonight — direct and slightly furious. She was trying very hard to l

I was kneeling in the center of it, barefoot, damp, exhausted, dressed in one of Mirabella’s old faded house gowns with bleach stains across the hem, looking less like family and more like the servant Rosalina constantly reminded me I was. “Oh, calm down, honey.” Rosalina’s voice flowed like silk dipped in poison. “No one is marrying you off to a dead man. I would never do such a horrible thing to my daughter.” A small laugh followed. Soft. Controlled. Cruel. My scrubbing slowed. I lifted my eyes just enough to see Rosalina seated elegantly on the velvet couch, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of red wine balanced between her fingers. Her lips curled.

60 ~ROSALINE~ "No..." I drop to my knees and try to gather the liquid on the floor. My tears drop into the liquid and I wipe them from my face with the back of my hand. Sobs take over me and I sweep the liquid up, broken shards scratching my palm. Some lodging in. I try harder to scoop it back into the broken bottle. At least just a few drops. I pin my trembling lips together. "Please... Please...." "Rosie...."