When destiny planted love

The Note Beneath the Petals

"I will always give you water… whether you ask for it or not."

The sun had gone down behind the garden walls, covering everything in a soft, golden sadness. Inside the small room..... which had now become both her safe place and her prison ....Daisy lay still. Her breathing was light, like the wind brushing past the hospital curtains.

Her eyes, wide and full of questions, were staring at the sky outside. It was the same blue she used to look at when she was a child, waiting for rain. Waiting for something soft. Something magical. Something that had been lost.

She slowly turned her head toward him — the man who never left her side. The man who smiled quietly, with eyes full of unspoken emotions. The one who held her hand every time she reached out into the empty air.

“Will we ever find him?” she asked again, her voice soft like a sigh.

“Who?” he whispered, even though he already knew.

“The drop…” Her voice broke a little, like a ripple fading on still water. “The one who used to water the daisies… the one who promised me…”

He gave her a gentle smile — but inside, his heart was breaking.

“We’ll find him,” he said softly, even though it wasn’t true. “Maybe he’s closer than you think.”

She gave a tiny smile and held the edge of her blanket, as if she was holding onto a piece of hope.

He had become everything to her — her shade, her sunlight, her warmth. But in her mind, he still wasn’t him. Not the drop. Not the one she kept seeing in her blurry dreams and broken memories.

So he continued pretending. Every day, they walked together through the hospital garden, following the path lined with white daisies. She would stop at each flower, kneel down, gently touch the petals, and whisper, “Not this one…” Her eyes would fill with tears, and he would pretend to search too, even though it was tearing him apart.

She didn’t remember that the drop had already turned into a human for her. She didn’t remember that the soul she was looking for… was the same one holding her hand.

And tonight — he just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

After she fell asleep, he stood by the door, watching her — this girl who once gave life to his soul, who helped him bloom. His Daisy. His entire world. And yet… she didn’t know who he was.

He slowly walked to the bedside table, his hands shaking.

In his palm, he held a small bunch of white daisies. Their petals were still wet with water — water that had touched his own hands. The drops shined like delicate memories that were too soft to speak out loud. Along with the flowers, he placed a note — written in the same handwriting he had once used long ago… back when he wasn’t a boy yet. When he was only made of water and love.

“I will always give you water… whether you ask for it or not.”

These were the exact words he had whispered in 1996, beside a younger version of her .... the one who used to believe in impossible things.

He looked at her one last time, softly said her name like a quiet prayer… and walked away.

No goodbye. No sound. Just the soft click of the closing door and the echo of a promise still alive in the petals.

That night, a soft breeze came in through the open window. It touched the note and made it gently move on the table. One of the tiny drops from the daisies slid down… and touched her wrist.

Her fingers moved. Her eyelashes trembled.

And somewhere deep inside her — beyond all the forgotten memories and lost time — something began to wake up.

Something… began to remember.