PROLOGUE
The morning sun, a vibrant tapestry of orange and yellow, bathed the world in its golden light. It enveloped the streets, warmed the houses and shaded the trees. Everything looked golden; abundant. Outside, flowers unfurled their petals, basking in the sun's warmth. A vast field of sunflowers stretched towards the sky, their sturdy stalks reaching for the light like determined lovers for sustenance in the season where their affections couldn't bloom. However, cherry blossoms thrived under the beaming sun rays, pale pinks to deep pinks danced in the air as the people gathered below to look up to it admiringly. The universal sun was especially merciful towards the delicate blossoms compared to the buds that were facing it in expectancy of some of its love. A deep red color popped in the sight, as the popular red roses emerged out and bloomed in their glory, with prickling thorns unforgotten by the eyes that admired it. It was all about the orange hues of the sky, under which pink and red rejoiced.
The vision morphed into something more solemn, more subtle as the sky darkened to a midnight blue and close to black as the darkness encroached the fading vibrant hues. The shimmering moon occupied the dark sky like a pearl, surrounded by glimmering stars that dotted the sky like embellishments adorn the velvet. Everything looked silver; reflective. The chill air of the night sizzled, rustled the leaves of Hydrangea, the multiple hues of purples and blues complimented the dark sky that hovered above and shone under the silver gleam of moonlight. Field and bushes of Lilac and Lavender smiled under the dark with their scent purifying the air, however with a need of the warmth of sun to energize themselves, but a sense of peace fell over as the white light from the moon captured their beauty. It was all about the darkness and light of the sky, under which purples and blues found their comfort and solace.
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A sliver of blue sky, punctuated by fluffy cotton clouds, peeked through her eyelids as she stirred. The first tendrils of consciousness arrived with a warm caress of sun-kissed air, laced with the intoxicating perfume of a thousand blooms. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she brushed the sleep from her eyes and took in the breathtaking panorama before her. The Hyuuga Garden unfolded like a vibrant tapestry, a riot of colors and intoxicating scents, unfolded beneath the morning sun. No wonder I dreamt of flowers. She thought as she recalled her moment of falling in slumber in the garden last night.
Beside her, her diary lay open, a gap marking the last entry. She straightened her posture and reached for it, a familiar ritual. Her pen, caught between the pages, seemed to beckon her forward. With a practiced grace, she began to write. The elegant strokes flowed across the blank canvas, each word an ink stroke breathing a life of its own within itself. Black ink stained the paper, yet the emotions they conveyed bled a vibrant red. She penned down:
He finally came home last night, but I couldn't stay, yet again. And he didn't follow, yet again. Am I right or wrong?