24|Violets

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Sereia's POV

"You can take whichever bed you'd like," he said as he grabbed a pillow from one of them.

I wanted to tell him to stay, but I think it'll be best for him to sleep on the couch considering what just happened.

I'm mad.

I was just an inch away from a kiss with him.

"Thanks," I drily answered and the air between us became tensed.

"I'll meet you out front," he said before taking the pillow to the couch and then leaving the room.

He still had business deals to make and I had a workshop.

...

We silently walked on the sidewalks of Manhattan as we both held drinks to our mouths.

I had pink lemonade while he had iced tea.

It had been a long day and traffic was tight, so Elliot decided that we should foot it again.

We didn't speak much today other than him asking where I placed his files and what I did at my workshop.

He slowed down when we neared a flower shop.

I trailed behind him l as he walked up to the purple flowers which were neatly planted in an orange pot.

"I'll take these," he pointed at flowers as he talked to the old man who was selling them.

He pulled the cash out of his wallet before he picked up the flowers.

I looked away out of nervousness when he began to approach me.

"For you," he said as he stretched them out to me. "They are your favourite, right?"

My head slowly turned the face the deep, velvety purple flower. At the centre of the flower, a tiny burst of yellow adds a subtle brightness.

It looked cute, but they weren't my favourite.

I'd been well versed with flowers growing up.

Dahlias and Peonies were my favourite.

"Thank you, but they are not," I told him politely as I accepted them. "In fact, this is my first time seeing them in real life."

His eyebrows knitted together as he fell in deep thought. "Is violet perhaps your favourite colour?"

I shook my head. "No, not at all. Where are you getting this from?"

"It's just that you kept repeating the word violet over and over in your sleep."

There was a pit in my stomach.

"Violet was the name of my sister," I explained softly.

He let out a deep sigh. "I'm so sorry, Sereia. I just wanted to lighten the mood between us a little."

I smiled at the fact that he cared.

"I'm guessing you two were close?" he asked as we began walking again.

I hesitated to answer.

I've never talked about her with anyone. No one ever cared to ask and my father would shout at me if I called her name.

He's probably passed out drunk somewhere as we speak.

"The closest," I finally responded. "She was my best friend. When she died, I did too."

He nodded. "How old was she when she passed?"

"She was twenty-two," I told her. "If she were alive, you two would be around the same age."

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