Chapter 70: A Time Called Now
The garden had changed over the years.
Not in ways that demanded attention—but in quiet, patient ways that only revealed themselves to those who had stayed long enough to notice.
The willow tree stood taller now, its branches sweeping lower, fuller, as if it had learned how to hold more weight without breaking. The stone path that curved through the grass had softened at the edges, worn gently by years of footsteps—small ones, hurried ones, hesitant ones, and steady ones that had finally learned where they belonged.
There were new flowers too.
Not planted all at once, not arranged with perfection, but added piece by piece over time. A rosebush near the fence that Henessa had insisted on. Lavender along the edge of the walkway—Tiania’s choice. A patch of wildflowers that had somehow taken root on their own and refused to leave.
Henrick never touched those.
“Some things,” he had said once, “deserve to grow exactly how they want to.”
