A Promise of Roses

Beatrice’s thin, bony fingers gently touched my face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why do you always lie to me, Vesper? ," she asked, her voice trembling with pain. I was confused by her question, but then her expression shifted to anger.

“You always promised to give me roses every day, but you didn’t,” she shouted. “I wanted roses in my garden, but you insisted on vesper irises in the flower