The White Tulip's Lie

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The morning sunlight streamed through the glass door, casting long shafts of light across the floor.

I was arranging the freshly arrived champagne roses, my fingertips still damp with dew.

Could you please give me a bouquet of white tulips?

That voice was like a slender needle, suddenly piercing my eardrum.

My hand holding the flower shears hesitated, and slowly I raised my head.

The man stood backlit; his figure unchanged, but his suit gave him an air of newfound steadiness compared to three years ago.

It was Daniel Shaw.

I lowered my eyes, pretending not to recognize him, and turned away to fetch the flowers. "Just a moment."

"Whitney Jones?" He stepped forward, his voice carrying a tentative uncertainty, "Is it really you?"

I didn't stop arranging the flowers, my tone flat: "Do you know me, sir?"

Daniel Shaw's breath hitched noticeably. He came to the counter, his gaze locked tightly on my face: "You don't remember me? I'm Daniel Shaw."

"Sorry," I pushed the wrapped tulips toward him, "My memory isn't very good. Many people and things from the past have grown blurred."

He didn't take the flowers. Instead, he withdrew a photograph from his wallet.

The edges of the photo had already yellowed. The girl in the picture had her hair tied in a high ponytail, smiling brightly as she leaned on the boy's shoulder.

That was me at twenty-two and Daniel Shaw.

"Look at this," his voice trembled slightly. "We used to come to this flower shop all the time. You said white tulips were like our lovepure and lasting."

My fingertips curled slightly; the cold flower shears pressed painfully into my palm.

"Sir, the flowers total eighty." I avoided his gaze and pointed to the payment code.

"You really don't remember?" Pain filled Daniel Shaw's eyes. "We ate skewers at the snack street outside the university gate; the spicy food made your eyes water; the first time your experiment failed, you cried for a whole hour in my arms; The day of my graduation defense, you waited downstairs holding flowers for me for three hours..."

These moments flicker through my mind like film clips, vivid as if they happened just yesterday.

"Sir," I interrupted him, my tone cooling slightly, "I am already married."

Whether I remember those past things or not no longer matters.

"Married?" Daniel Shaw suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with reluctance. "Who did you marry? When was this? You clearly..."

"Three years ago." I cut him off again, picking up the nearby spray bottle to water the flowers. "My husband works abroad; we have a good relationship."

"Impossible!" he raised his voice, and the other customers in the shop all turned to look. "If you had truly let go, why are you still running this flower shop? It used to be our favorite place to come to!"

I put down the watering can and looked him straight in the eyes. "This shop was a wedding gift from my husband. I just think the environment here is nice."

"Whitney Jones, look at me." Daniel Shaw grabbed my wrist. His palm was warm, just like it used to be. "Tell me, do you really not have me in your heart anymore?"

"Let go." I wrenched my hand free and stepped back to put some distance between us. "Sir, please conduct yourself with some respect."

"I know you're still angry with me," his voice softened, tinged with pleading. "It was my fault back then. I searched for you for so long afterward, but it was as if you had vanished into thin air."

"I've told you, I don't remember." I turned toward the door and made a polite gesture. "Please leave. Don't disturb my business."

Daniel Shaw stared at me for a long moment, the pain in his eyes nearly spilling over.

He picked up the bouquet of tulips, paid, but did not leave immediately.

"I will come again." He left those words behind and turned to walk out of the flower shop.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching his figure vanish around the street corner before I slowly exhaled.

The cold sweat in my palm had already soaked the hem of my shirt.

It's been three years, Daniel Shaw. I thought we would never see each other again.

My phone rang; it was Felix Clark calling.

His voice was warm and magnetic, like the gentle sunshine of spring.

"Whitney, do you want to have lunch together? I happen to be near your flower shop."

"Sure," I sniffled, trying to keep my voice steady, "I'll wait for you."

After hanging up, I returned to the shop and looked at the photo Daniel had left on the counter.

In the photo, we're laughing so happily, yet back then, I never could have imagined that this seemingly perfect love would end in such a tragic way.

One weekend morning, I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and drove alone to the cemetery.

My parents' tombstones stood among a cluster of pines and cypresses, clean and solemn.

I knelt down, placed the flowers before the tombstone, and gently wiped their photo with a handkerchief.

They smiled tenderly in the photo, exactly as I remember them.

"Dad, Mom, I've come to see you." The wind blew gently, carrying a faint chill. "I'm doing well now; you don't need to worry."

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows upon the tombstone.

In a daze, I seemed once again to be back in that nightmarish summer three years ago.

At that time, Daniel Shaw and I were both seniors, our relationship steady, already discussing our wedding after graduation.

Until Rachel Johnson appeared.

Rachel was Daniel's junior, sweet-faced and always speaking softly, with an utterly harmless air about her.

The first time she appeared before us, she was holding a textbook, saying she wanted Daniel Shaw to help answer some questions.

"Daniel, Whitney, sorry to trouble you." She kept her head down, her cheeks faintly flushed, looking particularly shy.

"It's nothing, just ask if you have any questions." Daniel smiled as he took the book, his tone gentle.

At the time, I didn't think much of it and simply regarded her as an ordinary junior student.

But later, I realized Rachel Johnson always seemed to 'accidentally' run into Danielwhether in the library, the teaching building, or the cafeteria we often went to.

"Daniel Shaw, don't you find Rachel Johnson a little strange?" Once, I couldn't help but ask him, "She seems to always be following you around."

"You're overthinking it," Daniel Shaw said, ruffling my hair, "she's just struggling with her studies. As a senior, it's only right that I help her out."

"But she's already affecting us," I frowned, "last time we went on a date, she called you five times, saying she had a fever and wanted you to take her to the hospital."

"It's not easy for a girl out there," Daniel Shaw's tone grew a little impatient, "Whitney, can't you be more understanding? Don't keep dwelling on these little things."

This was the first time we quarreled because of Rachel Johnson.

I watched the impatience flicker on Daniel Shaw's face, and my heart stung as if pierced by needles.

Afterwards, things only grew worse.

Rachel began posting ambiguous messages on the school forum, hinting at a special connection between her and Daniel.

"Daniel, look at this!" I slammed my phone down before him; the words in that post were like sharp knives. "What exactly does Rachel want? You have to make it clear to her!"

"She's probably just messing around," Daniel said with a frown, glancing at the phone. "I'll talk to her. Don't be upset."

But his so-called communication only involved asking Rachel Johnson to delete the post, without saying a single harsh word.

What broke me down even more was that, before long, rumors spread at school that I was bullying Rachel Johnson.

"Whitney Jones, aren't you going too far?" When Daniel Shaw found me, his face was grim. "Rachel Johnson came to me in tears, saying you shouted at her downstairs by the dorm and even pushed her?"

"I didn't!" I trembled with anger. "She fell on her own. She was deliberately playing the victim in front of you! Daniel Shaw, why won't you believe me?"

"Whitney, you weren't like this before," he shook his head, his eyes heavy with disappointment. "Why can't you be a little kinder to her? She's just a young girl."

"Me? Kind?" I laughed, tears springing to my eyes. "Daniel Shaw, what kind of person do you think I am? You'd rather trust a junior you've barely known than me?"

That day, we argued bitterly and parted on bad terms.

I thought it was merely a minor episode in our relationship; as long as Daniel Shaw could see Rachel Johnson's true colors, everything would return to normal.

But I never imagined this was only the beginning of the nightmare.

Rachel Johnson posted a video online of me "bullying" her; the footage was edited to make it seem as if I were physically assaulting her.

In no time, I became the so-called "vicious senior" everyone at school despised.

Someone wrote obscene words in my textbooks, others slashed my bicycle tires, and some even blocked me downstairs in the dormitory, shouting curses at me.

I went to find Daniel Shaw, hoping he could help clear things up.

But he was avoiding me, sending only one message: "Whitney, now that things have blown up so much, calm down first. We'll talk once the storm passes."

At that moment, my heart utterly broke.

I stared at that message and wept through the entire night.

After my parents heard the news, they immediately rushed over from our hometown.

They wanted to help me seek justice, but Rachel Johnson's parents caused a scene at the school, demanding I be expelled.

"Dad, Mom, I don't want to study anymore." Watching my parents tirelessly struggle on my behalf, my heart ached unbearably. "I'm not going to continue my studies."

My parents disagreed, but I had already made up my mind.

On the day I took care of the leave of absence, the sky was pouring rain.

I stood before the Teaching Building, watching Daniel Shaw and Rachel Johnson come out from inside, sharing an umbrella. Rachel leaned into his embrace, her face radiating happiness.

I did not step forward; instead, I turned and walked into the rain.

The rain mingled with my tears, blurring my vision.

From that day on, I told myself that the Whitney Jones of the past was already dead.

"Dad, Mom," I touched the photograph on the tombstone, my voice faltering, "I'm sorry for the worry I caused you back then.

But now, it's alright; everything has passed."

The wind blew, the leaves rustling softly, as if my parents were responding to my words.

I knelt before the tombstone, sharing many recent happeningshow well my flower shop was doing, how Felix Clark was taking care of me.

Only when the sun was overhead did I stand, brushing the dust from my knees.

"Dad, Mom, I'll come to see you again next time."

As I turned, I suddenly stopped in my tracks.

Daniel Shaw stood nearby beneath the pine and cypress trees, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, his eyes heavy with complexity as he gazed at me.

The air seemed to thicken instantly.

I looked at Daniel Shaw, my heart racing uncontrollably.

How is he here?

"Why are you here?" I spoke first, trying my best to keep my voice steady.

Daniel Shaw stepped toward me, his eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept all night.

"I saw you at the flower shop yesterday and have been following you since.

I want to know if you really have forgotten."

"I've already told you, I don't remember you." I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Don't lie to me, Whitney." His voice trembled as he said, "If you truly forgot, then why did you come here? This is your parents' cemetery. Whenever you felt down before, you would come here to talk to them."

My body frozehe still remembers.

He actually still remembers these details.

"Daniel Shaw, let go of me." I struggled hard, but he held on tightly.

"Whitney, I know I was wrong," he knelt before me with a thud, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Back then I was blinded, I misunderstood you, I've wronged you.

Please give me one more chance, won't you? I promise I will make it up to you."

I looked at Daniel Shaw kneeling on the ground, my heart tangled with mixed emotions.

Countless times I had imagined him apologizing to me, but when that day finally came, I felt no excitementonly numbness remained.

"Get up." I turned away, not daring to meet his eyes. "This is a cemeteryhow can you act like this?"

"If you don't forgive me, I won't get up." He stubbornly knelt on the ground. "Whitney, these past three years I haven't had a moment's peace.

I broke up with Rachel the moment I realized she was lying to me.

I've been searching for you, checking every place we used to visitbut I just couldn't find you."

"So what if we broke up? So what if you couldn't find me?" I finally lost my patience and raised my voice. "Daniel Shaw, what's the use of saying this now? When people spat on me back then, where were you? When my parents were running themselves ragged for me, where were you? When I was on leave from school, sleepless night after night at home, where were you then?"

My words hammered mercilessly on Daniel Shaw's heart.

His face grew pale, his lips trembling, unable to speak a single word.

"You don't know," I took a deep breath, struggling to calm myself, "back then, because of your distrust, my parents were so anxious they fell illmy mother even had a heart attack because of it."

After I took a leave from school, they moved me here to give me a change of environment.

But soon after, they both died in a car accident."

Daniel Shaw abruptly raised his head, eyes filled with shock and guilt: "I'm sorry, Whitney, I didn't know... I didn't know it would come to this..."

"Of course, you didn't know," I smiled, a hint of bitterness in my expression. "Back then, you were wrapped up in Rachel Johnson's affectionhow could you have cared whether I lived or died?"

"No, I didn't..." Daniel Shaw tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Daniel Shaw, I'm going to tell you a secret." I looked him in the eyes and said each word slowly, "I never had amnesia.

I only pretended not to know you because I didn't want any more ties to you."

Daniel Shaw's body wavered, as if stunned by a heavy blow.

He looked at me, eyes filled with despair: "Why did you lie to me? You clearly still remember everything from our past..."

"So what if I remember?" I retorted, "Those things from the past are nothing but a nightmare to me.

It took me so long to finally emerge from that nightmare. How could I possibly plunge back into it?"

"But I truly know I was wrong, Whitney," he said, grasping my hand and pressing it firmly against his chest. "Feel my heartit's been beating for you all this time."

I really can't live without you."

"Who your heart beats for has nothing to do with me." I yanked my hand away and took a step back. "Daniel Shaw, what we had ended long ago."

From this moment on, do not ever show yourself before me again.

"I don't believe it!" he shouted, rushing to hold me. "You must still love me; otherwise, you wouldn't hate me so deeply!"

"I hate you, but more than that, I want to forget you." I avoided his embrace, my voice firm. "Daniel Shaw, you should leave."

"If you still harbor any old feelings, then don't disturb my life again."

I turned away and walked downhill without looking back.

Behind me came Daniel Shaw's sobs, laden with regret and unwillingness, but I would never look back.

At the foot of the hill, I saw Felix Clark's car parked by the roadside.

He leaned against the car, holding a bottle of water. Seeing me approach, he immediately stepped forward.

"Why did you take so long?" He took my bag and handed me the water. "Why do you look so pale? Are you feeling unwell?"

"It's nothing," I said as I took the water and took a sip. "Maybe I'm just a little tired."

Felix didn't ask again but gently stroked my head. "Get in the car; I'll take you to get something to eat."

Sitting in the car, watching Felix's focused profile as he drove, my heart filled with warmth.

Daniel Shaw's appearance had indeed unsettled my life, but Felix's presence gave me the courage to face everything.

Since that meeting at the Cemetery, Daniel Shaw never appeared again.

I thought life would finally return to calm, but unexpectedly, a sudden illness pulled us back together.

That day, I was arranging flowers in the flower shop when a wave of dizziness swept over me; my vision blurred, and I collapsed straight to the floor.

When I awoke, I found myself lying in a hospital bed.

"You're awake?" A familiar voice whispered beside me.

I opened my eyes to see Daniel Shaw, clad in a white coat, standing at my bedside, holding a medical record book.

My heart suddenly sankhow could it be him?

"What is going on?" I frowned, my voice cold. "How are you here?"

"I'm the attending physician at this hospital," Daniel Shaw said, a hint of worry in his eyes. "Your friend brought you here when you were in a critical condition."

Only then did I remember that before I fainted, I had called the clerk at the flower shop.

I never imagined she would bring me to the hospital where Daniel Shaw worked.

"I want to be transferred to another hospital." I struggled to sit up, but Daniel Shaw gently held me down.

"Your condition isn't suitable for transfer," he said firmly, "You have acute appendicitis and need immediate surgery."

"Even if I were to die, I wouldn't let you operate on me." I pushed his hand away forcefully. "Arrange the transfer for me right now, or I'll discharge myself."

"Whitney, stop being difficult." Daniel Shaw's tone softened. "This concerns your health; you can't act on impulse."

"Act on impulse?" I smiled. "Daniel, what right do you have to say that? When you acted on impulse back then, did you ever consider how deeply you hurt me?"

"It was my fault back then," he lowered his head, his voice heavy with guilt. "But now I am the doctor, and you are the patient."

"I won't risk your health over personal grudges."

"I don't believe you." I turned my face away, unwilling to look at him any longer.

Just then, Felix Clark pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He saw Daniel Shaw, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes before he quickly composed himself.

"Whitney, how are you?" He came to the bedside and took my hand. "What did the doctor say?"

"He said I need surgery," I looked at Felix Clark, my voice tinged with a trace of grievance. "But I don't want him to perform it."

Felix Clark looked toward Daniel Shaw and extended his hand. "Hello, I am Whitney Jones's husband, Felix Clark."

Daniel Shaw hesitated for a moment, then slowly extended his hand and shook Felix's. "Hello, I am Daniel Shaw, Whitney Jones's attending physician."

"Could you tell me more about my wife's condition?" Felix's tone was calm, yet his eyes held a faint, barely noticeable scrutiny.

Daniel Shaw nodded and handed the medical record book to Felix. "She has acute appendicitis. The situation is serious, and she needs immediate surgery."

I am the best surgeon in this hospital; I will be performing the operation, and my success rate is the highest.

Felix flipped through the medical record book, exchanged a few words with Daniel Shaw, then came over to me, bent down, and whispered in my ear, "Whitney, I trust Doctor Shaw's professional skill."

"Your health is the most important thing. Don't overthink it, okay?"

"But..." I wanted to say more, but Felix cut me off.

"I'll be waiting for you outside," he gently stroked my head, his eyes tender. "Once the surgery is over, I'll take you home."

Looking into Felix Clark's trusting eyes, I nodded.

Perhaps I really should let go of past grudges and take my health seriously.

The surgery went smoothly.

When I woke, Felix Clark was sitting by my bedside, holding my hand, his eyes full of concern.

"How do you feel? Is there any discomfort anywhere?" He asked softly.

"No, just a little pain." I smiled. "Thank you, Felix."

"Fool, why are you thanking me?" He gently stroked my face. "Are you hungry? I made some porridge for you."

As Felix fed me porridge, Daniel Shaw walked in.

He held the dressing change tools in his hand, and upon seeing our closeness, a flicker of melancholy crossed his eyes.

"It's time for the dressing change." He came over, his tone calm and even.

Felix put down the bowl and adjusted my position.

Daniel changed my dressing carefully, his movements gentle, as if afraid of hurting me.

"About what happened back then," Daniel suddenly said, his voice low, "I've always wanted to say I'm sorry."

I said nothing, simply closing my eyes.

"It was only later that I realized those rumors were deliberately spread by Rachel Johnson, and the video was edited by her as well." A trace of emotion caught in his voice, "I went to confront her, but she told me she did all of this because she loved me."

"What meaning does it hold now for you to say these things?" I opened my eyes and looked at him. "The damage has already been done; a simple apology can't make it right."

"I know," he nodded, "so I want to make it up to you.

Whatever you ask for, I will agree to it."

"My only request is that you never show up in front of me again." My voice was firm. "Daniel, we're through. It ended long ago." Don't torture me like this anymoreit only tortures you too.

Daniel Shaw hesitated for a moment, said nothing, and continued changing my dressing.

When he finished, he turned and left the hospital room.

At the doorway, he paused and said, "Take good care of yourself."

I said nothing in response.

Felix Clark took my hand gently and whispered, "Don't overthink it. Get some rest."

During these days at the hospital, Daniel Shaw came to check on me every day, but he only inquired about my condition out of routine and said nothing more.

Felix Clark stayed by my side throughout, caring for me with unwavering devotion.

On the day we were discharged, Daniel Shaw personally saw us off at the hospital entrance.

He looked at me, as if wanting to say something, but in the end, he just nodded and turned away.

"It seems he has truly come to terms with it." Felix watched Daniel's retreating figure and said to me,

"Let's hope so." I leaned on Felix's shoulder and said, "Felix, thank you.

If it weren't for you, I don't know what I would have done."

"We are husband and wife; this is what I'm meant to do." He kissed my forehead gently. "Let's go home."

Sitting on the bus home, I watched the scenery blur past outside the window, my heart heavy with emotion.

I thought Daniel Shaw would truly let me go this time, but I didn't realize it was merely the calm before the storm.