Chapter 36
The morning sun stretched slowly across the fields, painting the horizon in gold and rose. Julia stood quietly at the edge of the village, where the narrow path led to the sunflower field that once belonged to her grandmother.
No one had gone there in months.
Since the funeral, the path had grown wild, tangled with weeds and silence.
But today felt different.
She wore her grandmother's scarf—a soft, pale yellow that still carried traces of her perfume—and carried a small wooden box under her arm. Inside it: her most recent stories, the photo of her and Grandma at the sunflower field, and the first lavender teacup they'd ever shared together.
Julia took a deep breath and stepped forward.
Each footstep crunched against the dried leaves and twigs. She could hear birds again—faint, distant songs. The wind didn't feel cold today. It felt like an invitation.
And when she reached the field—
She gasped.
The sunflowers were blooming again.
Tall. Strong. Bright as ever.
She stood frozen, heart thudding, a small sob breaking free.
For the first time, she didn't argue. She let the words in and held them close.
---
*That Night...*
Julia couldn't sleep.
Not from anxiety this time—but from ideas.
Scenes. Feelings. Words she hadn't written yet.
She grabbed her notebook and began scribbling again, fingers flying over the pages. This time, the character wasn't sad Julia. It was brave Julia. A girl who learned to carry grief like a lantern instead of a weight. A girl who smiled—not because life was perfect, but because she had survived.
She looked at the pages filling up and smiled.
Grandma would've been proud.
---
*The Next Week*
Julia's inbox was overflowing.
More reader messages.
More people touched by her words.
Some had lost family. Others had been through depression. Some were simply lonely. But all of them felt connected through the story of the girl who forgot how to smile.
She'd even received a small donation from a reader named Luna. Just $5—but the note said:
*"You reminded me how to feel again. I hope this helps you keep writing."*
Julia stared at it for a long time. It wasn't about the money.
It was about the meaning.
*One Evening, Two Surprises*
That evening, Julia heard a knock at the door.
It was Callen—with a small box.
"What's this?" she asked, curious.
She fell to her knees in the middle of the field, laughing through her tears.
"I thought they were gone," she whispered. "I thought… everything was gone."
But the flowers had returned, just like Grandma promised they would.
"Things come back," Grandma had once said, brushing Julia's hair. "Even after sadness. Especially after sadness."
She opened the wooden box and laid the items carefully on the ground. Her journal, the teacup, the photo.
And then she closed her eyes.
*I'm healing,* she thought.
Not completely. Not all at once.
But enough to smile.
---
*Later that Day...*
Julia returned home to find Callen waiting outside her gate, holding two ice creams.
"You were gone forever," he said, handing her the one with extra sprinkles.
"I went to the sunflower field."
He blinked. "Wait—the one with your grandma?"
She nodded, smiling. "They're blooming again."
"I thought that place was abandoned."
"So did I."
They sat on the front steps, eating in silence for a moment, the summer air warm around them.
"So," Callen said, licking his cone, "Your novel is climbing fast. People are loving it."
"I don't even know how."
"You're being honest. That's rare. People feel it."
Julia looked at him. "Do you really think so?"
He smiled. "I don't *think*, Jules. I *know*."
He scratched the back of his neck, nervous. "Something I made for you."
Inside the box was a hand-carved wooden necklace—a tiny sunflower pendant, smooth and golden, shaped like a heart.
Julia's eyes watered. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Because you came back to life. And I wanted to remind you. That you still bloom."
She hugged him tight, the kind of hug that doesn't need words.
Then—her phone buzzed.
*[Email from Webnovel Publishing Team]*
Her eyes widened. She clicked.
*"We've selected your novel for front-page promotion next week. Your story has touched thousands. We believe in it—and you."*
She stared, stunned.
This was bigger than she ever imagined.
---
*That Night, at the Sunflower Field Again*
She returned to the field, pendant around her neck, and read aloud from her newest chapter.
The wind rustled the tall flowers.
She could almost hear her grandmother laughing in the breeze.
"I'm doing it, Grandma," she whispered. "I'm really doing it."
And for the first time in so long—
Julia laughed, too.