In “Before Sunrise Touches Earth We Forgive What Hurt Us” by Vik Rowan Tate, Kross reveals to Rosette the existence of a neglected greenhouse behind the mansion, once a sanctuary for his mother. He tasks her with reviving the garden, which sparks a flicker of hope within her despite her lack of gardening experience. As she prepares to take on this challenge, she begins to sense the emotional weight Kross carries, realizing that he is more than the distant figure he often presents to the world. Their interaction hints at a deeper connection, as they both navigate their vulnerabilities and the pain of the past.
Kross opens up about his mother’s struggles within her suffocating marriage, sharing how the greenhouse was her refuge. This moment of honesty reveals his own sadness and regrets, particularly surrounding his mother’s tragic death. Rosette, moved by his pain, attempts to comfort him but feels unprepared for the emotional depth of their conversation. Kross’s admission that he harbored resentment toward his mother for leaving him and his brothers creates a poignant moment of shared vulnerability between them, highlighting the complexities of love and grief.
As Kross injures himself in a moment of frustration, Rosette instinctively tends to his wound, deepening their bond through this act of care. This scene serves as a metaphor for healing, both physically and emotionally, as they confront their shared history. Kross’s struggle with his feelings of hatred and self-loathing reveals the intricate layers of his character, while Rosette’s empathy allows her to connect with him on a deeper level. The tension in their relationship begins to shift as they acknowledge their pasts and the pain they carry.
The chapter concludes with a fragile understanding blossoming between Rosette and Kross, suggesting the potential for healing and growth. As Rosette prepares to embark on the task of restoring the greenhouse, she feels a renewed sense of hope and purpose. The act of gardening symbolizes not just the revival of the neglected space but also the possibility of nurturing their emerging relationship. The promise of transformation looms as they face the challenges ahead, setting the stage for their journey of forgiveness and renewal in the chapters to come.
Continue Regular Chapter Reading Below
**Before Sunrise Touches Earth We Forgive What Hurt Us by Vik Rowan Tate**
“There’s a greenhouse,” Kross announced, his voice steady yet distant, as if he were speaking of something far removed from our reality. His gaze drifted past me, fixating on the wall behind, lost in the memories that seemed to haunt him. “It’s tucked away just behind the mansion. Once, it was a sanctuary of beauty and tranquility, but now it lies suffocated beneath a blanket of weeds and neglect. Your task, Rosette, is to breathe life back into that garden.”
His words hung heavily in the air, a palpable weight that pressed down on my shoulders. Gardening was a realm I had never ventured into; I couldn’t recall ever holding a trowel or nurturing a single plant. Yet, the thought of reviving something once beautiful sparked a flicker of hope within me. I found solace in the vast resources of the internet and the countless gardening books that lined the shelves of libraries, offering a world of knowledge I was eager to explore.
I nodded in agreement, though I sensed that my affirmation was more for my own reassurance than his. Kross’s focus remained elsewhere, lost in thoughts I could only imagine. I took a moment to study him, trying to peel back the layers of the man who often seemed so distant and unapproachable. In this moment, he appeared less like an impenetrable fortress and more like someone who had lowered their defenses, even if only slightly. Perhaps the fatigue that etched itself into his features had softened his edges, allowing me a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath.
He was not merely a cold, unfeeling entity; there was a depth of emotion simmering just beneath the surface. I couldn’t quite grasp the extent of his feelings, but the sadness radiating from him was undeniable.
“The greenhouse held significance for you, didn’t it?” I ventured gently, hoping to bridge the chasm that had formed between us.
He shifted slightly, his jaw working as if he were wrestling with his own vulnerability. Slowly, he turned to face me, and to my surprise, his eyes were not the steely orbs I had anticipated. Instead, they were filled with a sorrow that spoke volumes.
“It belonged to my mother,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid the words would shatter in the air. “Our mother. She cherished that greenhouse. It was her refuge when life became overwhelming, a place where she could escape the suffocating reality of her marriage. She sought solace there often.” His gaze wandered around the room, the sorrow etched in his features deepening. “This was her home. We moved in after she… passed away.”
A strange urge welled up within me—a desire to provide comfort, to reach out and ease his pain. Yet, despite my inclination, I felt woefully unprepared for such an endeavor. Instead, I remained silent, curiosity gnawing at me, prompting further questions that begged to be asked.
“You three didn’t live with your mother? Why didn’t she stay with your father?” I asked, my voice soft yet insistent, hoping to coax him into sharing more.
He sighed deeply, removing his eyeglasses and rubbing his eyes, a gesture that hinted at the weight of my inquiries. For a brief moment, a flicker of fear crossed my mind—that I had crossed an invisible boundary, that he might cast me out of his office for my probing. But instead, he moved toward a drawer, retrieving a bottle of liquor along with two glasses.
“Do you drink?” he asked, his back still turned to me, as if he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.
“No,” I replied, my voice steady, though my heart raced.
In a moment of clumsiness, he dropped one of the cups, the sound echoing in the quiet room, a stark reminder of the tension that filled the air. He then walked past me and settled onto the sofa. “Come, sit. I’m too weary to remain standing.”
I took a seat across from Kross, the man I had once believed to be devoid of emotion. Even his brothers had labeled him a heartless machine, but in that moment, I realized he kept this side of himself hidden from the world, a secret he shared only with those willing to look beyond the surface.
Why did that revelation send a flutter through my heart?
He filled his cup and downed the contents in one swift motion, refilling it as he began to speak, his voice heavy with the weight of his past. “My parents’ marriage was suffocating. At least for my mother. She was like a delicate flower, while he was a frigid marble statue. She craved love and tenderness, but my father was incapable of offering those gifts.” He rotated his cup, watching the brown liquid swirl within, lost in thought. “She sought space, and in response, he gifted her this mansion. She longed for us to live with her, but Father refused. He wanted to mold us into the perfect heirs and feared that Mother would make us weak. So, we lived with him, visiting her occasionally, until the day we learned she was gone.”
His grip tightened around the cup, the tension in his hand evident as I heard a faint crack. I chose not to interrupt, allowing him the space he needed to continue. At last, he resumed, his voice heavy with emotion. “She chose a flower—an oleander, they called it. Poisonous, yet one breath wouldn’t kill you. She burned it. She gathered the blooms, locked herself in the greenhouse, and set them aflame. That was when it became truly dangerous; when ignited. By the time they found her, it was far too late.”
The glass finally shattered in his hand, the liquor spilling and mingling with the crimson of his blood. My heart raced as I stared at the injury, instinctively rising to search for paper towels in his office. The urgency of the moment propelled me forward, my mind racing with thoughts of how to help him.
I returned to his side, taking his hand into mine. His skin, like that of his brothers, felt unnaturally warm. I pushed aside my discomfort and cleaned the wound, noting that the liquor must have seeped into it, yet he didn’t flinch.
“Do you harbor hatred for your father?” I asked, my eyes still focused on the task at hand, even though I felt the intensity of his gaze piercing through me.
“No. Should I?” he replied, his voice calm yet laced with uncertainty.
I shrugged, feeling the weight of my own thoughts pressing down on me. “I can’t dictate your feelings. But if I were in your position? I would likely hate him. And perhaps my mother too. It would feel as though she didn’t love me enough to stay, to endure.”
The wound was now clean, a neat cut that didn’t seem deep or long. “Is there a first aid kit here?” I finally lifted my gaze to meet his, but the expression in his eyes was inscrutable, a mixture of vulnerability and defiance.
“There’s no need for that,” he said softly, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. “I did hate my mother, Rosette. I truly felt she didn’t love us enough to remain. I hated that our love had been insufficient to save her. She laughed and smiled, but I should have seen through that façade. I loathe myself for not recognizing the truth. I despised everyone but my father, who was ultimately responsible. What does that make me?”
I turned my gaze away, focusing on the wound instead, my heart aching for the pain he carried. “A human.”
A heavy silence enveloped us, lingering until I cleared my throat and stood up, the weight of our shared moment pressing down on me. Kross’ eyes remained fixed on me, a heat radiating from his gaze that sent shivers down my spine.
“I’ll start tomorrow,” I declared, realizing it was already past midnight. “Will the supplies I need be available?” He nodded slowly, and I found myself nodding in response, suddenly feeling a flush of warmth rise to my cheeks. What was wrong with me? His mere gaze made me feel flustered, as though I were on fire. This wasn’t typical behavior. “Alright then. I should get some sleep. Good night.”
I turned to leave, my steps quickening as I sought the cool air outside his presence, desperate for a breath untainted by his scent. My hand was already on the doorknob when he called my name, his voice gentle and soft. I hesitated, biting my lip as I turned back to face him.
But he was not looking at me; his attention was drawn to the wound I had just cleaned, his other hand tracing the edges delicately, as if he were trying to understand the pain that lay beneath.
“Thank you,” he murmured, so softly it was almost lost in the silence. Yet, I heard him, and somehow, the simple gratitude relaxed my shoulders and eased my breathing. How could a mere thank you possess such power over me? I couldn’t even pinpoint what he was thanking me for.
“Warm milk can help you sleep,” I suggested, nodding a farewell, and he returned the gesture, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us.
In the quiet aftermath of our exchange, a fragile understanding blossomed between Rosette and Kross, one that transcended the barriers of their pasts and the shadows that loomed over them. As Kross shared the painful history of his mother and the emotions he had long buried, Rosette found herself grappling with her own feelings of empathy and connection. The act of tending to his wound became a symbolic gesture, a moment of vulnerability that hinted at the potential for healing not just for the greenhouse, but for both of them. In that shared silence, they began to forgive—not only the wounds inflicted by those they loved but also the weight of their own expectations and judgments.
As Rosette stepped away from Kross, the air between them crackled with unspoken promises, a fragile truce forged in the face of sorrow. The path ahead was uncertain, with the daunting task of restoring the greenhouse looming before her, yet she felt a flicker of hope igniting within. Kross was no longer just the stoic figure she had perceived; he was a man grappling with his past, and in that revelation, she saw the potential for growth and redemption in both their lives. With every seed she would plant in the garden, she would also nurture the fragile bond they were beginning to cultivate—one that might one day bloom into something beautiful, despite the weeds of hurt that had once choked their hearts.
**What to Expect in Next Chapter?**
In the next chapter, we can expect the tension between Kross and Rosette to deepen as they embark on the journey of reviving the neglected greenhouse. As Rosette begins to dig into the soil, both literally and metaphorically, she will uncover not only the secrets buried beneath the weeds but also the hidden emotions that Kross has long suppressed. The act of gardening becomes a poignant metaphor for healing, as each seed planted symbolizes the potential for growth and renewal in their fractured lives. Readers will be drawn into the intimate moments shared between them, where the vulnerability of their pasts intertwines with the hope of a brighter future.
Moreover, the haunting memories of Kross’s mother will linger in the air, casting a shadow over their progress. As Rosette learns more about the significance of the greenhouse, she will confront her own preconceptions about love, loss, and forgiveness. The delicate balance between nurturing the garden and addressing the emotional turmoil within Kross will create a palpable tension, pushing them both to confront their fears and desires. Will Rosette be able to help Kross find peace with his mother’s memory, or will the weight of their shared history prove too heavy to bear? As dawn approaches, the promise of transformation looms, leaving readers eager to discover what revelations await them in the light of a new day.
Conclusion
In the quiet aftermath of their shared vulnerability, both Kross and Rosette stand on the precipice of change, their emotional arcs intertwining like the roots of the plants they will soon nurture. The act of tending to Kross’s wound became a catalyst for deeper understanding, allowing Rosette to glimpse the pain he has carried for so long. As she prepares to embark on the task of reviving the greenhouse, she recognizes that this endeavor is not merely about restoring a physical space; it is a journey of healing for both of them. The flicker of hope ignited within her speaks to the potential for growth, not just in the garden, but in their hearts as they begin to forgive the hurts of their pasts.
As they step away from their moment of connection, the weight of unspoken promises hangs in the air, setting the stage for the challenges that lie ahead. Rosette’s determination to breathe life back into the neglected garden mirrors her desire to cultivate a deeper bond with Kross, one that transcends the shadows of their histories. With each seed she plants, she nurtures the fragile trust forming between them, aware that the journey will be fraught with obstacles. Yet, in the dawning light of a new day, the promise of transformation shines bright, urging them to confront their fears and embrace the possibility of healing together. The path forward may be uncertain, but the potential for beauty and renewal beckons them both, inviting them to explore the depths of their hearts and the resilience of their spirits.
What to Expect in Next Chapter?
In the next chapter, readers can anticipate a profound exploration of both Kross and Rosette’s emotional landscapes as they delve deeper into the task of restoring the greenhouse. As Rosette begins to uncover the remnants of beauty hidden beneath the layers of neglect, she will also unearth the buried feelings within Kross, revealing the rawness of his grief and the complexity of his familial ties. Each interaction between them will be charged with a mix of vulnerability and tension, as the act of nurturing the garden becomes a catalyst for confronting their shared pasts. The stakes will rise as they grapple with their own fears and the shadows that loom over their budding connection.
As Rosette cultivates the soil, she will also cultivate a newfound understanding of Kross’s pain, challenging her own perceptions of love and loss. The delicate balance between their emotional healing and the tangible work of the garden will create an atmosphere ripe for revelations, pushing them both to confront the ghosts that haunt them. Will Rosette’s determination to bring life back to the greenhouse inspire Kross to face the demons of his past? As their bond deepens, the line between mentor and confidant will blur, leaving readers on the edge of their seats, eager to witness how their relationship evolves amidst the backdrop of growth and renewal. With each passing moment, the anticipation builds—what truths will emerge from the soil, and how will they reshape the future for both Kross and Rosette?
