Chapter 2: A Touch of Inspiration
"I'm so tired, Mira," Leah sighed, dropping her pencil beside a half-sketched page. "I've been working on this design all day, but I can't get it right."
Mira leaned over the table, brushing a stray curl from her face as she looked at the design.
"I think this design is perfect," she said with an encouraging smile.
Leah shook her head, staring at the soft lines and half-finished patterns. "It's pretty," she admitted, "but not enough to win the competition. It's missing something. Something bold."
Mira placed a gentle hand on Leah's shoulder. "Miss, you shouldn't wear yourself out. Just take a breath, maybe go for a walk. A little space might bring the inspiration you're looking for."
Leah paused, then slowly nodded. "You're right. I just need inspiration." She stood abruptly, grabbed her bag, and slung it over her shoulder with a grateful grin. "Thank you, Mira. You're the best."
Before Mira could respond, Leah was already halfway out the door.
"Miss, you forgot your—" she began, then let out a soft chuckle. "Ha… forget it."
Mira sighed, fondly watching the door swing shut. Working for Miss Weya had changed everything. Her old boss had been harsh, arrogant, and impossible to please. But Leah—Miss Weya—was different. She was kind, creative, and treated Mira more like a friend than an assistant.
For the first time in years, Mira actually looked forward to work.
---
Walking along the quiet street, Leah's eyes caught a splash of color just ahead. Arranged in neat rows at the front of a cozy little building were the most stunning flowers she'd seen all day—bright chrysanthemums, soft-petaled daisies, and rich, velvety roses blooming in the late afternoon light.
"Wow…" she breathed, slowing to a stop. These flowers are beautiful.
As she admired them, a young woman in her early twenties stepped out of the building. She wore a luscious green dress that curved elegantly from the knee downward, swaying softly as she moved. In one hand, she held a silver watering can, still dripping slightly from use.
"Excuse me, Miss," Leah called politely, stepping closer. "Are these flowers for sale?"
The woman looked up and smiled, her eyes calm and warm.
"No, they're not," she replied simply.
Leah's shoulders dropped slightly, a tinge of disappointment flashing in her eyes. "Oh… I see," she said, glancing again at the chrysanthemums.
The woman studied her for a moment, then tilted her head with a gentle smile. "But… if you'd really like one, I can give you one. As a gift."
Leah's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight.
"Really?" she asked. "That's so kind of you!"
"You're welcome," the woman replied warmly. She bent down, gently lifted one of the flower pots, and handed it to her with both hands. Nestled inside was a single blue dahlia, its delicate petals shimmering slightly in the light like silk.
"Here you go," Leah said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a few bills. She stretched the money out with hesitation.
But the woman simply shook her head.
"No, it's for free," she said with a smile. "It looks like it was meant for you."
Leah paused, touched by her kindness. "Thank you very much, Miss," she said again, hugging the pot close to her chest as she turned to leave.
On her way back home, she couldn't stop glancing at the flower. The soft scent clung to the air around her — light, sweet, and strangely calming. It was unlike anything she'd ever come across before.
It must be rare, she thought. And yet it found its way to me.
She smiled quietly to herself. For the first time all day, inspiration began to flicker back to life.
---
Back at home, Leah climbed into the waiting car where Mira sat beside the driver.
"Miss, this flower is beautiful. Where did you get it from?" Mira asked, her eyes lighting up as she leaned forward for a better look.
"A nice lady gave it to me," Leah replied, her fingers still curled around the pot gently.
Mira brought it closer, taking in the scent. "Oh, it smells amazing."
"I know," Leah said with a soft smile. She couldn't stop looking at it either. The blue dahlia glowed under the car light — peaceful, confident, and entirely its own.
That night, after dinner and a warm shower, Leah sat back at her desk. With the flower beside her, a pencil in hand, and her sketchbook open, something inside her began to unlock.
The ideas flowed.
One design after another spilled from her fingertips — twelve, thirteen… fourteen.
It wasn't until the fifteenth sketch that she sat back, eyes wide, heart still.
There it was.
The one.
Perfect.