As everybody else, she knew that he had fond memories of Grace, the object of his very first love. And the fact that he still kept in touch with Grace after decades and oceans apart only meant that he has too gentle a heart.

And isn't that what attracted her to him in the first place? Like a moth to a flame?

"I'm for real, she's just a memory from the past." She's confident that she has him now, through and through.

Until one day, after a very passionate moment with her, he sighed.

"Grace and I would have made a perfect pair." He said, longingly.

"Oh yeah? How?" she said encouragingly, amused.

"She's so funny. We always have so much to talk about. And she's a kind person...."

He carried on, enthuastically.

But to her, his words started to fade off. The same time that her heart sank she felt her soul getting out of her body, drifting into the air and looking at her, sadly.

She knew at that moment who she had become, to him:

The Rose White.

She felt restless, withdrawn, and mostly defeated.

"How can you be so blind?" Her soul questioned her heart.

"I thought I was for real. I thought my being with him will get him over an age-old memory!" Her heart weeped, feeling the coldness all around.

There were battles to pick. This battle of the roses she picked not.

That day she let him talk on, and on, and on. It was, after all, their last intimate moment together - even though as always, his mind was with somebody else.