Wilting Flower Novels & Stories

"I never touched her. I swear, I’ve never slept with her." Charles exhaled deeply, relief washing over his features. "Good. That’s good." With another dismissive wave, he signaled for the bodyguards to drag the two women out. Their cries and protests faded into the distance, silenced at last. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, its warm hues casting a somber glow over the vast estate. Both men stood in the garden, their gazes drawn to the wilted hydrangeas surrounding them. The flowers had withered, seemingly gone to sleep, with no telling when—or if—they would bloom again.

He showered me with an abundance of care and attention. At that time, whenever he came across something novel or interesting, he would always bring it to me first. He was the person who dispelled the fear and unease lingering in my heart with his love and care. But all those beautiful moments vanished on that chaotic night like a mirage. Trapped by someone else's scheme, he gave me an intoxicating "dream" that I couldn't resist sinking into. When the effects of the drug wore off, however, he showed me that the cruelty of the prince of the Hare City's circle was no mere rumor. My dreams were shattered piece by piece under his cold gaze and heartless words.

This was the perfect distraction, but now that it was over, the thoughts of earlier slammed into my brain. “Something happened earlier…” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head gently and his fingers traced my spine. “What is it?” He asked, sleepily. “I was walking home, and I saw a flower that wilted,” I told him slowly. “I stopped to look at the flower, feeling sorry for it.” “You felt sorry for a wilted flower?” He asked and I could hear the smile in his voice. I lifted my head so I could look at him as I nodded.

"How odd." "That?" She questions me. “The flowers,” I observe, bewildered, “are wilted.” "Not at all." It makes me curious. "Because?" “Flowers are cut and most of the time they do not appreciate all their facets, no one sees the beauty of a flower wither, they lose its last colors” he explains, “Look at it, it is about to wither and yet it still looks beautiful.” , keep it and its last emotions will stay with you.”

He doesn’t deserve it after everything. As I clear the coffee table, my eyes fall on the vase. The roses Damien bought me a few days ago. They’re now wilted, dry and brittle. My chest tightens, and I freeze, staring at the dying flowers. Tears blur my vision, and before I can stop it, they spill over, rolling down my cheeks in hot, uncontrollable streams.

He confusingly raised his eyebrow knowing the flower was going to wilt in his hands. "Teacher, give it to Lizzy. I hope you two can stay together forever." She smiled brightly while Zayn glanced at her. He did not know when she grew up into this kind person. "It is not going to wilt." Before Zayn could take the flower, Vikas snatched the flower but as soon as he touched it, the flower because dry and it's petals fell on the ground. "It's not going to work if you snatch it from me." Giselle informed him and then gave another flower to Zayn while Vikas and Love were begging her to put the flowers in their vine.

Beth flicked a flower petal and pulled lightly on a dead leaf, removing it from the main plant. "Yes, it has. I traded flowers with Lady Witte. A few primroses and snowdrops for pansies." Lady Marjorie said, touching the flower plant beside her. "Don't you just love this flower? They appear haunted, but are one of life's best. They symbolize nostalgia and remembrance." She stood up. "But no matter how charming they are, we would not talk about them, I think we should gather and source…" Beth walked farther, crossing over to the other side. She studied the flower the Dowager Duchess spoke of; her new interest. It had a distinct look of melancholy and thoughtfulness, and the more she stared at

Sibyl’s POV A breeze came and I smelled a very nice scent. The smell was light, mixed with the scent of roses and Lily of the valley, and a hint of post-rain grass. I sniffed, OH, it also has the smell of the Phoenix Flower. The Phoenix Flower is a nearly extinct flower. It is very strict with the temperature, light and humidity of the living environment, so it is difficult for them to survive. But their flowers are extremely beautiful and give off a fascinating smell.

Helplessly, I looked up at her and said, “Grandma, no matter what, I’m still your granddaughter. You can’t be so biased that you won’t even let me eat a piece of watermelon.” Grandma’s expression shifted uncomfortably. Just as she was about to continue scolding me, the sharp ring of a phone cut through her anger. “What? The court? What did you say? That’s impossible! My husband is already so old. How could he possibly commit rape? “Are you mistaken? Don’t slander my husband!” Just as I had expected, the call from the court had come to Grandma. After she hung up, she collapsed onto the sofa and burst into tears.