𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1

3 0 0
                                    



Chapter 1

10 years Ago ;

"Always remember—red roses mean love," my dad says, his voice warm and steady as he hands me the bouquet of roses. My small fingers brush over the soft petals, staring at how perfect they are. But then, a sharp sting pulls me out of my daze—a thorn pricks my finger. I frown, rubbing the tiny wound. "Ouch!"

He straightens, brushing off his coat as if preparing to leave. "Be careful, princess. Sometimes, even beautiful things can hurt a little."

A.. Single tear rolls down my cheek, and suddenly, the memory vanishes, replaced by the cold reality of now. My mind does this sometimes—drifts back to him and the fragments of moments that made up my childhood.

Love. I wouldn't know what it truly feels like. I've never fallen in love or experienced the kind of love that people write about or fight for. All I've ever known is attention that fades as quickly as it's given, or love that comes with conditions—a shallow kind of affection, like puppy love, sweet but empty.

I've never felt the terrifying, painful, all-consuming love that shakes your soul and leaves you gasping for air. The kind that strips you bare, exposing every hidden piece of yourself, fragile and trembling.

I've never known what it's like to love so fiercely you'd fight for it, or someone who makes you believe they're worth risking everything for. All I've known is the hollow ache of longing for something I can't name, something I've never truly had.

I keep others at a distance, watching everyone around me fall deeply, lose themselves in someone else, and somehow come out of it whole—or broken, but changed. I haven't been fortunate enough to know that blessing, or that heartbreak. Maybe one day, maybe never.

Dragging my feet along the garden, I feel the cold settle into my body, embracing it to feel something—anything. I let the flowers brush against my toes, the sun press heat into my skin, my breath ebb and flow in a rhythm I can't control. The wind picks up, a breeze skimming over me, and I lie back among the white lilies, holding my most beloved book, Dante's Inferno. My mind drifts with the pages when I hear my alarm go off: Time's up.

I sigh. The owner lets me stay here an hour, no more, yet this garden is my favorite place in the world. Here, there's no pain, no trauma, no yelling or grief—only quiet, beauty, and the flowers that grow. People usually come here to buy arrangements for weddings, funerals, or new beginnings, but no one comes simply to enjoy them, to savor their peace and beauty. Mr. Greyson, the owner, lets me take the dying flowers for free so he doesn't have to clear them out. I gather them in my bucket, bringing them home to give them a little more life. Flowers may be temporary, but their beauty is eternal—a promise that lingers.

"Time's up, guys. I'll be back next week, don't worry."

Just then, Mr. Greyson walks in. "Luna, could you do me a favor?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"I'm having a family emergency, and I can't reach Jessie—she's out of town. Would you be able to close up tonight? You're the only one who knows the shop as well as I do."

Seeing this as my chance to spend more time here, I quickly agree. "Yes, yes, of course! But I'd like something in return." I flash a smile, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Oh? And what would that be, Miss Luna?"

"Well, as you know, I only get an hour here—I want three hours a week. And, I'd like to pick fresh flowers...and decorate the lobby."

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: 7 days ago ⏰

Add this story to your Library to get notified about new parts!

Thorns Between UsWhere stories live. Discover now