The cleaning lady responded, and Lizetta turned off the water, dried her hands, and stepped out.

Days flew by in a blink, and on the eve of Lizetta's departure to Summer City, Remington's car once again stopped at the dance company's entrance.

Tall and distinguished, Remington stood by his car, cradling a bouquet of flowers in his arms.

They were roses, a refreshing shade of green, unique, understated, and elegant. They matched his demeanor perfectly. Lizetta recognized them instantly as the rare matcha forest roses.

She froze in place until Remington approached, offering her the roses with a voice as soft as the breeze.

"Here's your bouquet. Still mad at me?"

Taking the flowers, Lizetta felt a lump in her throat and a sting in her eyes. She lowered her head to smell them and then looked up at him, smiling gently.

"They're beautiful. The first flowers you've ever given me."

Remington saw she was happy, his lips relaxing into a relieved smile as he playfully tapped her head.

"Nonsense, I've given you flowers before, about twelve or thirteen years ago."

Lizetta paused, and then remembered.

days. Mr. Dashiell was the golden boy, talented and handsome, naturally

dared to secretly send him

occasionally, some would slip through to his bag, and

secretly placed flowers, which he intended to throw away, she insisted were

all those flowers to her, more than just one

more playful;

all flowers. What's the

thought to herself, of course, it was different. Did he give her those flowers back then because he liked

didn't voice her thoughts, afraid to delve deeper. Instead, she clutched

visit, today Remington had come to pick

Lizetta settled into the

е

help but ask him, "These flowers are

meaning was eternal love, a love

"Cedric recommended them."

noticing her evident joy and thought to himself that this year's bonus

them, I can have the florist deliver a bunch

stroked the petals, shaking her head, "You really don't understand women. Getting them too often would take away the surprise."

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