Ben remained still in the kitchen, captivated by the white roses—once a symbol of love, now a symbol of sorrow, regret, and truthfulness.
The concealed message inscribed on the note positioned beneath the vase had unveiled a door that had been firmly shut for an extended duration. The weight of his concealed secret had shattered the tranquility.
Eliza’s footsteps vanished as she left the room, but her pain continued to linger. She had known the truth for a while, but decided to let him find out about it himself. The roses weren’t just ordinary flowers—they were a symbol of a significant event or change.
Ben lowered himself gently, still holding the vase, and whispered to himself, ‘I apologize, winter. I let you down.’ And I also failed Eliza, as well.
The truth was exposed, but healing would necessitate endurance. Forgiveness wasn’t guaranteed, but perhaps it had begun.
Sometimes, the deceased do not cause us distress—the remorse does.
It was that dreaded day each year — the anniversary of the devastating accident that claimed his wife’s life and left their 13-year-old daughter without a mother. The date was marked on the calendar, serving as a constant reminder of the heartache and sorrow they had experienced. Five years had passed since Emma’s passing, but the grief still hung in the air like a thick fog. Her vibrant personality, her infectious laughter, and the genuine warmth she radiated were all deeply missed.
‘eliza, i’m going to visit the cemetery,’ ben said softly his daughter barely acknowledged his presence, retreating into her room without uttering a single word She had not been the same since that evening.
During their journey, Ben made a quick stop at a familiar flower shop and picked out a large bouquet of white roses—a classic choice for winter. He had been driving the same car since the accident, never considering any other options.
As he drove, his mind wandered back to the very first time he had surprised her with those stunning flowers. It had been three dates. Her face lit up with joy upon seeing them. ‘white roses are my favorite—how did you know?’ she asked, embracing him with a smile. He had been oblivious, but he was ecstatic to have achieved success.
Those treasured memories elevated the day despite the discomfort. He was tormented by guilt and grief. He couldn’t forgive himself.
At the cemetery, Ben lay down on the marker. The black marble shimmered under the light, winter’s name engraved in gold. He meticulously arranged the roses and allowed the tears to flow. ‘I miss you, winter.’ He couldn’t find the right words to convey his emotions.
But life did not cease for sorrow. He removed the dirt from his trousers and returned home.
The house was peaceful and quiet. Eliza had not arrived yet. Ben walked into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee—but what he saw made him stop in his tracks.
On the table in the center of the kitchen, there was a vase. Inside it were the exact same white roses he had just left at winter’s grave—same shape, same petals, even the same beads of dew clinging to them.
As soon as Eliza returned home, he eagerly inquired about her experiences.
‘What flowers?’ she inquired. ‘I have not observed those. I spent the entire day with my pals. Are you certain they are the same individuals buried in the cemetery?’.
Ben was confident. He was aware of every aspect of those roses. His thoughts raced uncontrollably. Was he slipping into delusion?
He swiftly retrieved his keys and headed back to the graveyard. The blossoms had vanished.
Fear and bewilderment consumed him. Was he in a state of reverie? Envisioning things?.
The flowers were still present on the table when we returned home. Ben picked up the vase and discovered a folded note hidden beneath it. In tidy handwriting, it read:
“I know the truth, and I forgive you, but it’s time you face what you’ve hidden.”
Ben felt his limbs collapse. Someone was conscious. Someone had stumbled upon his secret—and now, they were manipulating him.
Eliza noticed the message and inquired, ‘dad… what reality? What are you hiding?
He hesitated, then spoke with a trembling voice. ‘the night your mother passed away… it wasn’t just an accident.’..
Eliza stared at him, confused. ‘What are you trying to say?’ she asked.
A terrible confrontation. She discovered… I had been unfaithful,’ he confessed, his voice trembling. ‘I was having an affair.’.
Eliza exclaimed. ‘You were disloyal to mom?’.
Shame consumed Ben’s face. ‘I did.’ and I have regretted it every single day.
He explained how the act of betrayal had greatly affected the winter season. She hastily exited, got into the car, and disappeared without a trace. Her accident happened while she was going through a period of intense emotional distress. Ben had been weighed down by guilt, lacking the strength to confess the truth to eliza. He was apprehensive that she would not forgive him.
But Eliza already knew.
She had discovered her mother’s journal. In it, winter had penned her suspicions. Even then, she had been willing to forgive her husband—though she herself could not.
It was Eliza who had removed the flowers from the grave and brought them back to her home. She yearned for her father to recognize his deeds. To ascertain if he would admit to his role in her mother’s death.
Without uttering a single word, eliza exited the room, leaving ben alone with the white roses that once symbolized a love that had transformed into a haunting reminder of loss, betrayal, and pain.
Conclusion::
Ben was left alone in the quiet kitchen, the faint scent of white roses still present, evoking a distant memory. The truth was finally unveiled — a truth he had hidden for years, weighed down by guilt and silence. The flowers, once a symbol of love and affection, now stood as a painful reminder of the broken bond between father and daughter.
Eliza’s footsteps ceased, but her pain echoed with a profound intensity that couldn’t be dismissed. Ben came to the understanding that the process of healing would require time, and whether it would occur or not was uncertain. Some injuries were not immediately noticeable, and some forgiveness came at an unexpected moment.
Although it was uncomfortable, this confrontation was a necessary step — painful, but ultimately honest. For the first time in five years, the silence was broken, and the responsibility was shared.
As the sun started to set, casting a warm glow on the petals, Ben softly murmured, ‘I’m sorry, winter.’ He apologized to Eliza. Despite the house’s silence, there was a faint glimmer of hope that the journey towards healing had finally commenced.