روايات وقصص ضمن Roses

It moved farther and farther from the cemetery on the hillside, and farther away from all the love and hatred buried beneath Sicily's soil. Daisy leaned against Caleb's shoulder and looked out the window. The hillsides were covered in blooming irises. The warm breeze never felt better. Her new life had only just begun.

Since then, Theo and I have had numerous arguments. There was a time I wandered into the garden and was captivated by the roses, heavy with blooms. Red roses are my weakness, and they were so vibrant and full that I couldn't resist picking a few. It was too late when the gardener stopped me, warning that I'd be in trouble because those roses were off-limits. He told me they had belonged to Theo’s late mother, planted in her memory, and he had forbidden anyone from picking them.

said Rose. “I know! Why is this wedding that was fixed on a whim so grand?” asked Seth. “I… I don’t know!” replied Rose, stunned. Red was her favourite colour. Her father had made sure that she always had rose plants in the garden. They both loved tending to roses together. When Lucas fell ill, Ursa and Vanessa made sure they uprooted every rose plant. Vanessa hated roses because they made her jealous. Rose was the Woolridge princess, and she was not. So, why was the whole hall decorated with every variety of rose there was?

He leaned over the bouquet to give me a kiss. “You’re already crushing the flowers your brother got her,” Sophia added, chiding a little. “And after you begged to be the one to bring them to her!” “They’re not crushed!” Mika said, quickly stepping back and adjusting the stems. “See, they’re fine!” “They’re beautiful,” I told Mika and Azrael. The roses were a deep, rich purple, like the violet of Nightwhisper’s colours mixed with the blue of Moonriver, and tiny white sprays of flowers were scattered throughout. “Thank you all so much.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅• Caroline sat beside her mother, Agatha, flipping through the glossy pages of a wedding catalog, scanning the carefully curated arrangements of flowers. Soft sunlight poured through the window, illuminating the pages, casting a gentle glow over the delicate bouquets displayed on each spread. Agatha’s fingers lingered over an image of pristine white roses, her expression calm yet decisive. "White roses," she said firmly, tapping the picture with purpose. "Classic, elegant. They symbolize purity and new beginnings. They’re perfect."

The smoke, the fire, the lies—none of it mattered when he looked at her like that. His fingers brushed her cheek, slow and reverent. “I tried to stay away from you,” he said. “But you didn’t.” Their lips met in a crash of heat and confusion, need and fury. Her hands tangled in his hair. His mouth was urgent, devouring, worshipping. The kiss deepened, wild and consuming, like the fire roaring through the mansion. He pinned her against the wall, his hands exploring every inch of her with desperate intensity. She gasped as he kissed down her neck, her collarbone, pushing the fabric of her maid’s uniform aside like it offended him. Their breaths mingled in a haze of lust and smoke.

|| Narrator’s Pov || “These just came in this morning, miss. Fresh from the garden. We’ve got red roses, whites, yellows, pinks, lilies, mixed, anything you’d like.” the shop owner said while spraying water over the fresh petals. Rosa’s numb eyes drifted over the vibrant display before her lips parted faintly. “White.” The shop owner smiled at the pale girl. “Roses? Lilies or–” “Anything.” Rosa whispered faintly.

Smith's accounts, there haven't been any transactions at all…" John tapped his fingers on the desk, irritable and growled coldly, "She's the one who planted the black roses, didn't she? Always playing such nonsensical tricks just to get me to go looking for her… Just to make me cave to her whims! "Go! Bring some men with you and search every inch of this villa. If she's really in this villa, make her kneel before Lara and apologize! "Also, dig those black roses out, root and all. The very sight of them irritates me!"

The aroma of the roses permeated the whole place—it was obvious that the roses were of a precious variety. “Looks like we have something fun to watch tonight!”

The little brother next to him flattered. Prince Long grunted and took out a large bunch of roses from the backseat, red, orange, red, green, blue and purple in every color. Gathering so many different colors of roses was obviously costly, but together they were indescribably vulgar, as if they were a bunch of dyed plastic products.