Roses are red, violet are blue

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Chapter 26: Iris Inspirations

Lila locked the shop door earlier than usual that evening, her mind swirling with thoughts of the surprise celebration Clara had sprung on her. It wasn't every day her best friend received a promotion at work, and Clara had insisted that Lila join her for the party. While she was grateful for the distraction, a gnawing apprehension crept up inside her as the hours ticked closer to the evening. Social gatherings had become a minefield for her emotions, each cheerful laugh or clink of glasses contrasting sharply with the hollow ache that never seemed to leave her.

As the sky deepened into a velvety indigo, Lila found herself in Clara's apartment, where the party was in full swing. The hum of conversations, the faint echo of soft music, and the twinkling fairy lights strewn around the room created a cozy and jubilant atmosphere. Clara had outdone herself, as always, radiating happiness and glowing in a way that made Lila feel a small flicker of envy—one she hated herself for harboring.

Clara appeared by her side, a glass of sparkling cider in hand, her warm smile contagious. "Lila, you've been sitting here quietly all evening. Come on, mingle a little. You might even have fun."

Lila smiled weakly, nodding. "I'm happy for you, Clara. I truly am. I just…" She trailed off, her voice faltering under the weight of her thoughts.

Clara squeezed her shoulder gently. "You don't have to explain, Lila. I know tonight must feel overwhelming. Just know I'm glad you're here."

For a moment, Lila felt a glimmer of comfort in Clara's understanding. She sipped her drink and scanned the room, her gaze landing on a vibrant bouquet of irises in a vase on the table. The sight stopped her in her tracks, a flood of memories rushing in like a wave she couldn't outrun.

The Memory

It was a quiet evening years ago, not unlike this one. James had returned home from work carrying a single iris in his hand, the deep purple petals almost shimmering in the fading sunlight. Lila had been in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when he entered.

"An iris for the iris of my eye," he had said with a boyish grin, holding the flower out to her.

She had laughed at the cheesy line, taking the flower and tucking it into her hair. "You're impossible, James. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. I just saw this and thought of you. Did you know that irises symbolize strength and elegance? That's you, Lila—strong, elegant, and resilient. Even on your toughest days, you carry yourself with grace."

She had rolled her eyes at his poetic words, but deep down, his sentiment had touched her. She remembered the way he had looked at her then, as though she was the center of his world.

The Present

Back at the party, Lila blinked, pulling herself out of the memory. Her chest tightened as she stared at the irises, their beauty now tinged with an unbearable sense of loss. She thought of James's words—strong, elegant, and resilient. But was she really any of those things?

The truth was, Lila felt far from resilient. Each day felt like a battle to simply exist, her grief clinging to her like a second skin. She had tried to move forward, to find purpose in her shop and the people around her, but James's absence was a wound that refused to heal.

"Lila?" Clara's voice cut through her thoughts.

Lila turned to see her friend watching her with concern. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," Lila lied, forcing a smile. She couldn't bring herself to ruin Clara's special night with her own sorrow.

Clara didn't push further, instead tugging Lila toward a group of coworkers who were toasting to Clara's success. Lila played along, raising her glass and offering polite congratulations, but her mind remained elsewhere.

As the party wore on, Lila found herself stepping outside onto the balcony to catch her breath. The crisp night air was a welcome relief from the warmth of the crowded room. She leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights twinkling in the distance.

Her thoughts drifted back to James, as they so often did. She wondered what he would say to her now, how he would encourage her to find strength in the face of her pain. She tried to summon his voice in her mind, but it felt distant, like a whisper carried away by the wind.

Returning Home

It was past midnight when Lila finally returned home, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. She dropped her keys on the counter and made her way to the living room, where a small vase of flowers sat on the coffee table. Among them was a single iris, one she had kept from a customer's order earlier that week.

She picked up the vase and held it close, the petals soft against her fingertips. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered to herself, "Am I really strong, James? Because I don't feel it. I don't feel strong at all."

The silence of the house was deafening, a stark contrast to the liveliness of the party. Lila sank onto the couch, clutching the vase as though it could anchor her to something solid. The weight of her grief felt suffocating, yet she couldn't let it go.

And yet, as she sat there in the stillness of the night, something stirred within her. A faint flicker of resolve, buried deep beneath the layers of her sorrow. James had believed in her strength, in her ability to weather life's storms. Perhaps it was time she started believing in herself, too.

The thought didn't erase her pain or fill the emptiness she felt, but it was a start—a small step toward the resilience James had always seen in her.

As the first light of dawn crept through the window, Lila placed the vase back on the table and stood, her heart heavy but her spirit slightly lighter. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope—a reminder that even in the darkest nights, the promise of morning always remained.

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