Chapter 7
1112 Words
Maya stood in the small garden patch behind the cabin, her hands buried in the dirt.
The heavy swell of her pregnancy was gone, a physical absence that she felt every single morning like a hollow ache in her chest. But where there was once grief, there was now a disciplined, quiet endurance and rage.
She had spent these months helping Grandma Nan cultivate the White Frost Lilies—rare, delicate flowers that only bloomed in the high altitudes. They were difficult to grow, but Maya had a gift. She spoke to them when she thought Nan wasn't listening, pouring her whispered secrets into the petals.
“We have enough for the stall today,” Maya said calmly, glancing at Grand Nan.
“Are you sure you’ll carry everything by yourself?” the elderly woman asked, worry creasing her weathered face.
“Of course,” Maya replied softly. “I’ve been doing this for months now. I’m used to it and they’re not that heavy.”
She offered a gentle smile, one that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes.
“You should head back home and rest. I’ll return early and prepare food for you.”
“No, no,” Nan said, raising her hands in protest. “You’ll be exhausted by then.”
“Please,” Maya insisted quietly.
Nan hesitated, then finally nodded. “Alright then,” she said, turning away.
Maya stood still, watching her disappear down the narrow path. A tight ache settled in her chest.
How will I ever repay you? she wondered.
Nan had been her anchor, comforting her every time she felt herself breaking apart, holding her like a frightened child, offering warmth and kindness without asking for anything in return. A stranger who had chosen compassion when the world had given her none.
She finally stood and adjusted the linen mask over the lower half of her face. She wore it every day so often that it had become a part of her. Only Nan had ever seen her face.
Maya carried the bundles down to the narrow mountain road where tourists and businessmen from the city sometimes passed on their way to the high-end resorts.
She needed the money not for herself, but to pay back Nan for the doctors, the medicine, and the kindness that had saved her life.
She had to do it.
She was tying a ribbon around a bouquet when a low, powerful hum vibrated through the ground.
A sleek, black SUV—an obsidian beast that looked entirely out of place in the rugged terrain, slowed to a crawl. The engine died just a few yards from her stall, steam hissing from under the hood.
The door opened, and a man stepped out.
He was tall, wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Nan’s entire cabin. He was on his phone, his brow furrowed in a sharp, impatient line.
"I don't care about the board's hesitation, Leo," the man snapped into the phone. "If they won't agree to the takeover, I'll buy their shares individually until they're irrelevant. Fix it."
He hung up and let out a frustrated breath, looking up at the sky as if demanding an explanation for the car's breakdown.
That was when the wind shifted.
The mountain breeze caught the scent of Maya’s Frost Lilies and carried it directly to him.
The man froze.
It was a scent he knew. A scent that belonged to a deaf, mute pregnant woman he had once protected from the world's cruelty.
It was Marcus.
He turned his head slowly.
His eyes locked onto the woman standing behind the wooden stall. She was covered in a simple dress, her face masked, her eyes guarded.
She can’t be the one, he thought.
The other woman had been heavily pregnant… unless she had already given birth. And besides, she had lived in the city.
Still, curiosity got the better of him.
He found himself walking toward Maya’s stall.
Maya watched him approach, her breath catching.
She recognized him.
The man from the hotel. The man who had fired her harasser. The man who had looked at her with the only kindness she had felt in years.
As he reached the stall, Marcus didn't look at the flowers.
He looked straight into her eyes.
"The scent..." Marcus murmured, his voice low and vibrating with a strange intensity. "I've searched every high-end perfumery in the country for this. I never expected to find it here."
He asked like he was testing whether she could speak or not. He was eager to see what was going to happen next.
Maya stood perfectly still, her heart hammering violently against her ribs.
She wasn’t ready to face anyone from her past, not now.
But she knew that if she stayed silent, he might recognize her.
Summoning what little strength she had, she spoke.
“How many would you like, sir?” she asked, carefully avoiding his eyes.
The moment she spoke, Marcus knew she wasn’t the one.
The woman he remembered couldn’t hear… couldn’t speak.
Yet the sense of familiarity clung to him, stubborn and unsettling.
“Do we know each other?” he asked.
Maya’s heart skipped a beat.
“No,” she replied curtly.
Before Marcus could say anything more, another man stepped out of a large black car nearby.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly.
Marcus glanced at him and sighed.
“The meeting starts in twenty minutes,” the man added. “We need to leave now.”
“How much for the lilies?” Marcus asked, his gaze fixed on Maya.
“Ten dollars a bouquet,” she replied quietly.
“Give me all of them.”
Maya froze, stunned.
She had come to sell, yes, but all of them?
After a brief pause, she nodded.
She had thirty bouquets in total.
He paid her, the amount far more than necessary.
As she hurried to hand him the change, he stopped her.
“Keep it,” he said firmly.
“No, sir,” Maya insisted, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
She had never liked taking money she hadn’t earned.
Marcus studied her for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
“Then I’ll come back for more lilies with that money,” he said.
His assistant quickly gathered the bouquets, placing them into the waiting car.
Within moments, they were gone, tires rolling down the road, leaving behind a single fallen lily.
Maya watched the car disappear and released a quiet sigh.
It was the same man.
He had always been kind.
But she couldn’t tell him that they already knew each other.
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