You Are My Lady.

:
In the spring of 2007, Iris Vale only wanted silence.

Her private conservatory was a world of green light, humid air, and plants that never asked questions. Then a man in black appeared at the side door holding a grocery-store orchid and a quiet request: just to sit.

Michael was softer than the world knew, heavier than he let anyone see. In the glass house he found stillness. In Iris he found something far more dangerous-someone who called him on his nonsense, poured him chamomile, and slowly became the only place that felt like home.

He started calling her Vale.
She started waiting for the sound of the side-door bell..

What grows between them is tender, funny, and sharp enough to cut. There are nights of soft laughter under the fig tree and mornings when he disappears without a word. There are moments she whispers into the dark, "I hate that I love you, Mr. Jackson," and means every conflicting syllable.

*You Are My Lady* }}}

is the story of a woman who never asked to be chosen and a man who finally learned how to stay. A slow, aching, green-lit romance about love that refuses to let go-even when it hurts.