NovelEnglishThe 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.
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He was talking about his high school days. Mr. Dashiell was the golden boy, talented and handsome, naturally
attracting many admirers.
But he was aloof, and many girls only dared to secretly send him flowers and love letters.
Remington rarely brought them home, but occasionally, swould slip through to his bag, and sometimes,
flowers would be secretly left at the Dashiell family's doorstep.
Those letters that slipped through, Litchi would excitedly open and read aloud to Remington. And those secretly
placed flowers, which he intended to throw away, she insisted were too good to waste, once even arranging
them.
Afterward, Remington started giving all those flowers to her, more than just one or two bunches.
As Lizetta thought back, her smile grew more playful; shaking her head, she said, "That's not the same."
"It's all flowers. What's the difference?" Remington raised an eyebrow.
Lizetta thought to herself, of course, it was different. Did he give her those flowers back then because he liked
her?
But she didn't voice her thoughts, afraid to delve deeper. Instead, she clutched the bouquet tighter and headed
towards the car first.
Perhaps to make up for the last unpleasant visit, today Remington had cto pick her up himself.
As Lizetta settled into the passenger
e
seat, on their way back to Oakridge Heights, she couldn't help but ask him, "These flowers are quite special. Did
you pick them out yourself?"
The flower's meaning was eternal love, a love for a lifetime.
"Cedric recommended them."
Remington glanced at Lizetta, noticing her evident joy and thought to himself that this year's bonus for Cedric
could be doubled.
"If you like them, | can have the florist deliver a bunch to our house every day."
Lizetta stroked the petals, shaking her head, "You really don't understand women. Getting them too often would
take away the surprise." Remington, with a non-committal furrow of his brow, replied, "As you say."
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Seeing his good mood, Lizetta brought up her departure to Summer City the next morning.
"How long will you be gone? After Summer City, where else will you go?"
Remington's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. He was aware of the tour. Indeed, that was why he had
cto pick her up. Before arriving, he'd even debated whether to insist she stay.
He didn't want her to go on tour at all. Her pregnancy was becoming more visible, and he couldn't be at peace
not having her in sight. The thought of her leaving Zion City unsettled him out of no reason.
But lately, she seemed happiest when dancing at the troupe. At this moment, her demeanor towards him was
much softer and more amicable than it'd been in a while, a rare period of ease and happiness.
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Their relationship had been strained, and if he objected, she'd likely becupset and unhappy again.
After a moment of silence, not wanting to disturb this rare harmony, Remington abruptly pulled the car over to
the side of the road.
Once the car stopped, he reached
out, his large hand grasping Lizetta's neck to pull her close, "You can go, but remember, you're my woman,
Lizetta. Stay away from speople!"
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