The flower continued to bloom for three days, growing larger and more radiant with each passing hour. Dante rarely left the garden during that time, keeping vigil beside the rose bush as if his presence alone could sustain whatever miracle was unfolding. He had a chair brought out and blankets against the cold, and he sat there through the nights, watching the flower pulse with that inner light, feeling Seraphina's presence grow stronger, more defined, more tangible with each moment.
