Scarlet Carnations Novels & Stories

Scarlett let out a dreamy laugh. Selene’s grip on the phone tightened. The sound scraped against her nerves. “Thank you,” she said softly. After a pause, she asked, “Scar… irises are still your favorite flowers, aren’t they?” Scarlett chuckled. “Always. You know that. Irises are forever my favorite. That’s what makes us funny—me loving them, you being allergic. Remember?” Selene forced a laugh, brittle and thin. “I never forgot.” Before Scarlett could continue, a deep masculine voice cut through the line from her end. “Who are you talking to?”

Winter's face lit up the moment she saw Alistair's adorable expression. "Winter, these flowers are for you," Alistair said, running up to her bed and placing the bouquet in her arms. "I picked every single one myself. They're all the prettiest blooms. But no matter how pretty they are, they're still not as pretty as you!" Winter pressed her lips together, smiling shyly. "Thank you, Auro. They're beautiful. I really like them." Carnations symbolized a wish for a patient's speedy recovery.

Thorne said, "Take care of the patients with a little more patience. Also, remember to buy flowers. Carnations are the best." Drake weakly said, "I knew." Hospital. Drake bought a bouquet of carnations and went to the ward where Ruby was. Ruby had not yet awakened, so he placed the carnations in a vase, filled it with water, and then sat down to quietly admire the beauty of the carnations. The purple carnation, shining like stars. It didn't have the fiery and glamorous beauty of roses, nor the fresh and elegant charm of lilies. It just modestly bloomed in its own way.

SCARLETT My jaw hung low in awe as I stared at the statue of a couple, their bodies covered in red, white, and black roses. There were many other static things like this around, all covered in flowers to give the impression that everything was made with them. All kinds. Roses, jasmines, tulips. Especially tulips. The purple flower had a separate garden devoted to it. The never-ending row of tulips was pleasing to the eyes. The bright lights that covered the empty path beside the rows of flowers was enhancing the beauty of the place.

I told her which heightened her irritation to another level. My gaze lowered to the rose she carelessly tossed on top of the glass table before lifting my chin up to meet her scathing glare, "They're fake, aren't they? Can't you afford a real rose? They're so black but your soul's blacker." "Stop changing the topic," Scarlet's fists slammed the table, startling both Samantha and I. Losing her grace, she broke her character as her angelic face twisted into fury. "Answer me, are you an impostor!?" Her voice exploded, filling the four corners of the room with her overlapping hatred.

Her heart began to beat faster, she was losing her sense already as she found herself bewitched by his drop-dead gorgeous sight. Nicolas smiled handsomely, he was wearing a white shirt and black trousers. His hair is curly and his blue eye is bright and luminous. In his right hand, he was holding a rosy exquisite flower as he strides stalwartly towards her. “Wha... What are you doing here?” Scarlet shutters to him, she did not expect him to be here. “Ugh... I came to see you.” Nicolas beamed and then he handed her the flower. Scarlet was blank for a while, gawking blankly at the flower in his hand before she took it from him for a while.

The place was serene and calm, a bit too calm. Caroline opened the door and slid out of the car with Alex’s help when she saw that he wasn’t moving, she narrowed her eyes. “ Come out, Carter.” He closed his eyes and took a sharp breath before he got out of the car and followed Caroline and Alex. The two brought white lilies from the nearby shop and Carter smirked shaking his head. There she goes running her head and forcing her own will upon someone else once again, Cruz didn’t even like white. In fact, he detested it, his favourite was red and he loved everything that had to do with red, he once told him a f*cked up thing about himself and that - he absolutely loved the colour of blood, th

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅• 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."

Little freckles sat on his slightly crooked nose, but they never took away from his beauty. And then there are his tattoos, which run from his neck to his chest. I realized I was staring too much and quickly snapped out of it, a blush appearing on my cheeks. Then his daring expression faded to a cold one, and he pulled away from me. "You're weird, Arian; something about you doesn't sit right with me." He walked away, around the corner of the building. I fell to the ground, still pounding on my wrist. I have to stay away from him; if I continued to be with someone like him every day, I would be unable to accomplish my goals.

She looked at my dad and asked, "Connor, if you could go back in time, would you still marry me?" My dad turned to meet her gaze, but he said nothing. My mom finally shed tears of anguish. I sighed and said, "Mom, a true leading lady will never be obsessed with love. Even without a man, she can live an incredible life." For the first time, my mom did not argue with me. Then, she noticed the scars on my exposed arms. As if remembering something, she pursed her lips and asked, "Sienna, do the scars on your arms still hurt?"