Cherilyn Knight's Point Of View.
The next visitor to my room was Theo. The sight of him standing in the doorway with a dozen pink roses in his hands made my cheeks flush with warmth. The blush crept up my neck, almost as if I could feel the heat radiating from the embarrassment that bloomed inside me.
It was not just any roses, either; they were exactly like the ones from the garden, their delicate pink petals curling softly, releasing a faint sweet scent that drifted across the room. It did not take much guessing to realize where they had come from — he must have picked them for me on his way here, a thoughtful gesture that sent a flutter of gratitude through my chest.
Theo had always been sweet, and today was no different. He placed the roses carefully in the vase by my bedside, arr
