Red Roses, Warm Thanks
Clara arrived home later than usual, shoulders tight from another demanding day in the city. She had pushed herself through meetings, traffic, and endless emails. All she wanted was silence. Instead, she found a bouquet waiting on her doorstep that wrapped in caramel and white papers, glowing softly under the evening light.
Red roses, creamy white blooms, delicate fillers, and eucalyptus nestled together perfectly. She blinked, surprised. She hadn’t ordered anything. But the refined wrapping style looked familiar. It looked exactly like something from White On White, the best florist in KL, especially known for their premium bouquets and effortless same-day delivery. Then she noticed the card tucked between the blooms.
“For everything you’ve done. Thank you.”
No name, but she instantly knew it was from her younger brother, Ethan.
Clara carried the bouquet inside gently, placing it on her dining table. The colours warmed up the room instantly. She sat down and let her gaze fall on each flower, letting the moment sink in. The red roses reminded her of all the sacrifices she made when Ethan was younger. The quiet responsibilities she took on without complaint. She worked extra shifts so he could attend school trips, skipped her own outings to save money, and stayed up late tutoring him through exams.
The white roses represented calm, tenderness. Things she rarely allowed herself to feel. Life in KL moved fast, and she had long forgotten what it felt like to slow down. Her fingertips brushed the carnations, and a soft warmth spread through her chest. She remembered the countless nights she showed up for Ethan: comforting him when he doubted himself, helping him apply for college, cooking for him when he struggled financially. Moments that felt normal to her, but clearly unforgettable to him.
The eucalyptus stems released a crisp, grounding scent, reminding her to breathe, to rest, to remember that strength didn’t always mean pushing through alone. Ethan had just landed his first job, and Clara knew this bouquet was his way of saying everything he found hard to express. He was never good with words, but he’d always been good with gestures.
She picked up the card again, reading his short note for the third time. Such simple words, yet they melted the weight she had been carrying for months.
Clara leaned closer, inhaling the scent of the roses. The bouquet wasn’t just beautiful, it was grounding, comforting, meaningful. It was gratitude in floral form.
And she felt grateful that Ethan noticed her sacrifices, grateful that love found its way back to her, grateful that she could pause for once and feel appreciated.
Sometimes gratitude doesn’t arrive loudly, it arrives wrapped in warm-toned papers and delivered to your doorstep, right when you need it most.
