Anna hummed low in her throat as she switched on the light, shuffling to her wardrobe.
She pulled the door open, reaching for the neatly folded stack of nightwear on the wardrobe shelf. She paused as her eyes caught a vase on the bottom shelf.
She sank to her knees, dragging in a breath at the sight of the rose vase she'd shoved in there.
She reached out, running a finger over the brittle leaves hanging low—dead, the color gone.
Memories flashed before her—once hurtful, but no longer sharp. The roses might be dead but Jason was still here.
She glanced toward the door as the sound of wood scraping against tiles filtered into the room.
A small smile tugged her lips as she turned back to the rose, picking the vase up.
If only she hadn't been too rash.
The vase still had water—
