✧ He was my desire; I was his obsession. ✧
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
"I will not chase you, and I am certain that once you leave, you will vanish from the face of the earth. However, know this, Taara: the instant I noticed a movement on...
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The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as I slowly blinked awake. My mind was still hazy, caught in that delicate space between sleep and wakefulness, where dreams linger and reality feels distant. I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting, not quite ready to leave the warmth of the bed.
I stretched lazily, sighing as the remnants of sleep clung to me like a gentle fog. I wasn't in any rush to start the day, content to let my mind wander in the quiet stillness. I stared at my burnt palm, a reminder of how messed up my cooking and my focus were.
But then something caught my eye. A flash of colour that didn't belong. I turned my head, and my breath hitched, the last traces of sleep evaporating in an instant.
Red tulips. Everywhere.
They covered the room in a sea of crimson, vivid and striking against the muted tones of the space. My heart fluttered as I sat up, the sheets pooling around me. The flowers were scattered across the floor, carefully placed on every surface, their petals like drops of liquid fire. I could almost feel the warmth of their vibrant hue washing over me, chasing away the chill of the morning.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet touching the cool floor, but I didn't move. I just sat there, taking it all in, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it. The air was thick with the subtle, sweet scent of the tulips, a fragrance that wrapped around me like a tender embrace.
Athwa. Only he could have known; only he could have orchestrated something so quietly breathtaking, so unexpected.
My eyes fell on the bedside table, where a small note lay propped up against a vase of tulips. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for it, my heart pounding in my chest. I unfolded the note, the familiar scrawl bringing a lump to my throat.
I'm sorry.
Two simple words, yet they carried the weight of a thousand apologies.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I stared at the note, my mind replaying our last conversation, the hurtful words, the frustration that had built up between us. But now, looking at these flowers—these beautiful, delicate tulips that spoke of his regret and his need to make things right—I felt something inside me begin to soften.
But I won't let go that easily.
I stood up, my bare feet brushing against the soft petals that had fallen to the floor. I breathed in deeply, letting the scent of the tulips fill me and calm me.
I moved toward the bathroom, still holding the note close, my emotions a mix of wonder and warmth. Pushing open the door, I stepped inside, only to gasp as my eyes widened in surprise.
Pink carnations.
They were everywhere—draped over the counter, scattered on the floor, even placed delicately on the edge of the sink. The soft, blush-coloured petals created an ethereal atmosphere, their sweet, subtle fragrance blending with the lingering scent of the tulips from the bedroom. I stood there, stunned, my heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.
