Winter Garden Novels & Stories

Today was my wife's birthday, and she was waiting for us, full of hope and love. "Dad, you're so sweet to Mom. I'm gonna find a husband just like you someday." "Hahaha! That's the plan." I could not help but laugh out loud at my daughter's words. I quickly passed the candy bouquet from my arms to hers, "Daisy, look, you've got a gift, too." "Wow, it's gorgeous!" She was so excited that she gave me a big kiss on the cheek. Then, with a curious tilt of her head, she asked, "Dad, who's that other bouquet for?"

However, he never showed himself, leaving me with no chance to vent my frustration. This absurd routine continued until the Snowcrest New Year. It was the grandest festival on the Snowcrest Plateau. To my surprise, John did not show up. By the time the sun was setting, I overheard people talking. Another avalanche had struck the Skyspire Mountains. My eyelid twitched. A moment later, the neighbor’s daughter spotted me and asked in surprise, “Dr. Summer, isn’t that handsome guy with you? He went to get you a gift, didn’t he?”

*Winter* The cold air seeped in through the cracked dormitory windows, a steady reminder of the raging snowstorm outside that turned the quaint village into a frosty wonderland. I had been locked inside for what felt like an eternity—two days, but who's counting? As beautiful as winter is, it brings its moods, unpredictability, folding over me like a heavy blanket of snow. It seduced me with its shimmering appeal yet warned me sternly—it was a force to be reckoned with, not to be tangled with.

It is the wrong season,’ I replied. The moment I stepped through the entrance, I saw the rose bushes. They were full and open despite the cold. How was that possible? ‘There is something on them,’ my wolf added. ‘A fertilizer, or a potion maybe. Something was used to bring them out early.’ I looked at them for a moment longer before continuing down the path. At the far end of the garden stood the central greenhouse. The glass was fogged slightly from the warmth inside. I pushed the door open and stepped in.

Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney, curling upward into the clear sky. As they entered the wide garden that bordered their cottage, a surprising burst of color greeted them. Despite the season’s chill, the garden flourished beautifully. Carefully arranged winter flower beds stretched along winding paths, their blossoms vibrant and alive against the pale surroundings. Lila’s eyes widened with delight. “Who planted all these flowers, Villion?” she asked cheerfully. She slowly turned in place, taking in the sight of every bloom. Her fingers brushed delicately against soft petals as she passed.

Soon, old scandals resurfaced, banks withdrew loans, partners abandoned ship, and reporters besieged the mansion. Kirk updated me. "Richard blames it all on Olive, saying she colluded with outsiders to drain the company. Liam and Neal have cut ties with the Winters and are being hunted by Richard's enemies." I paused on a page—an equity certificate for a biotech company my mother owned. In my past life, Richard had obsessed over it but couldn't unlock its technological secrets. I closed the file. "Time to let him know what it feels like to lose everything." Three days later, the Winters Group declared bankruptcy.

The space between this world and the next seemed to blur, each step toward the grove heavy with the ache of farewell. The garden they had chosen for Winter appeared, a sanctuary bathed in the dappled light of the forest. Wildflowers danced gently in the breeze, vibrant offerings laid at the altar of loss where the trees stood as silent sentinels—a fitting tribute to the vibrant life she had so fearlessly embraced.

Occasionally, a few rays of sunlight peeked through before disappearing again. It was rare to see greenery during the deep winter of Elgerson, as most branches were bare. However, this wasn't the case in the Garrison Garden. There was a large glass greenhouse housing various flowers and plants that bloom year-round, creating a symphony of vibrant colors during the winter season. Fiona didn't have many hobbies, so her daily enjoyment was tending to the flowers and plants. Initially, she hadn't even felt like doing that, but Aren thought of this as a way to redirect her attention after seeing her becoming more downcast day by day.

She wiggled her eyebrows at me—as if what she were saying made the idea somehow more appealing. "It's a private school." I chuckled, shaking my head at the stupidity I found in her statement. "Every dance we have is invested with over thousands of dollars. They're all the biggest." "Yes—but this one is the winter one which is always better than the spring one." Preslie retorted, her tone defensive. "Yeah—peanut butter and jelly is always better with bread." I rolled my eyes, sighing at my weak comeback. "How does the season signify which will be better?"

Expecting Roslyn shivered as the brisk wind greeted her face; she hastily went to her dresser and retrieved her crocheted shawl her mother gave to her about two years ago and wore it over her loose blouse. She went back to stand close to the glass wall. Winter has approached in no time; Roslyn stared from her room as the wind continues to blow nonstop. She saw in the news last night that the weather would be around 10 degrees Celsius, but the temperature out there was obviously cooler than 10 degrees Celsius; she gazed at the garden below her and smiled; most of the flowers bloomed beautifully, especially the perennials and black tulips. She stared mostly at the winter Aconite which has alre