The last Rose

Don't you think there's just something unquestionably gorgeous about roses? The way its face brightens up after rain, its eyes lash out straight to you telling how pretty you both look together hand in hand, its thorns sometimes make you bleed reminding you that life isn't always glees and smiles. Oftentimes, it's just incessant pain and bandages for years.

As a child, teen, and now adult, I've always felt deeply for the art of giving thoughtful presents to the people around me, to make them feel the worth they genuinely hold in my life and the value they add to the life around'em. That is one of the major reasons why I started my florist outlet, combined with the cutest vintage bookstore, and a little bakery space. And well yeah, you might have guessed by that combination that I've always been an addict of romance fiction novels; creating my imaginary world away from this real thrashing one which has through all the angels of 7s rewarded me for my efforts.

It was around 4:45 pm on a Thursday in Winter, I was wrapping around ribbons on the bouquet and the book ordered by a client anonymously online to my address, when I saw a personalized note with it that completely shook me off- "This one's for you. The gorgeous woman with golden-brown eyes, dark black hair, and the prettiest smile. No, we haven't 'met' yet, but I've been a by-passer from your store for the longest time, admiring you from standing miles away from you on late afternoons, evenings, and even mornings; watching you handover orders with the biggest smile on your face each time, and just, you being you. Keep this for yourself; I know you love these old garden tea roses and well, you deserve them more than anyone." I'm not sure when was the last time I had genuinely smiled with all my heart, without even knowing who sent this. I guess, the long-awaited fiction moment finally took place; to receive flowers from someone without asking and any particular reason or occasion behind it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I wrote the last letter of the letter and put it in my cute little tote bag to carry back home today. Yeah, my day was made.

After about 7months, and then eventually 7years(yeah, I'm a hopeless romantic), I had finally stopped looking outside those French windows of my store in search of the person standing somewhere watching me, who had sent those flowers and gifted that book which has by far been the most deeply, personally touching book I've read till date, written by an anonymous writer which by the way seemed to be the only person who has known me my entire life, yet somehow I don't know who it is. But hey, you know what? If it's meant to be, someday that person will come to me in person, and tell me the story behind gifting that book and flowers. Or rather my overthinking nighttime scenarios will live through it and tell me the story.

It was only the second time today that my mother has come to visit my store after almost 7 years of its opening; the first time was the day she accidentally came in here looking for some drug dealer as always. You may have guessed, we haven't been on good terms for the longest time, or probably just ever I guess.

All my childhood and teen years were spent by me sulking in that one tiny bedroom she gave me like a house helper by the basement area. It was always dark there, except for the noons when the brightest golden rays of the sun used to hit my cheeks, and the yellow bulb on the ceiling, for the formality of course, which had been put over my congested study table which by the way never had school books since it couldn't be afforded by my drug-addicted single mother who had left almost 17 men till date, with the 5th one being the only one who cared about me to show me the essence of father-daughter love, but as always, he was pulled away from me. The only source of happiness in my life had been the novels and the tenderly working laptop which Mr.George had given me from his minor savings over the years by running his antique home decor shop for about 46 years now by the nearest street. I was about 17 years when him being the only source of happiness and hope in my life passed away; leaving behind almost all his assets in my name, and the most precious gift which has always been with me ever since. It was a 90s vintage camera that had the most random, funny, sweet, and cute shots taken in it with a story behind each, and the last shot was a video that he recorded someday before leaving for me to hear in his as-ever sweet voice, "Heyy Larissa! It's me, your 'Mr.George' as you always say haha. I know I know, I know you would be very upset with me for leaving you back here with that selfish mother of yours, but honey you don't deserve to stay here forever. I'm leaving behind all my belongings in your name, it's up to you to stay here at my home, or sell this and start somewhere new. Somehow, I know what will be your choice and I'm pretty confident that you'll make that dream of yours a reality. Just, never give up, and someday when you become a mother, I hope and I know you'll be the exact opposite of your mother. Until then, just continue being this amazing soul; travel, work, and grow into an even better human each day my tiny little writer who I for sure know will blow up the entire industry one day. Just know, I'll always be here with you, even if you may not see me physically anymore. You're the sweetest kid and the daughter I never had of my own. Also, someday you'll receive a gift from me from somewhere, keep it. Lastly, keep being you. I love you, kid." That video of him smilingly saying all that will forever remain the most precious gift I could ever receive in my life. But some days I still wonder what was that gift he was talking about.