Ivy's feet carried her to the rose garden almost on instinct. The farther she went from the noise in the courtyard, the easier it became to breathe.
Moonlight spilled over the flower beds in silver patches, revealing rows of red roses that seemed dull. Many buds had already wilted, their petals curled inward as if they had sensed the loss of the woman who cared for them.
Ivy followed the narrow stone path to a quiet corner of the garden and lowered herself onto a small wooden chair.
Her grandfather had carved it decades ago for Grandma. Knowing how much she loved flowers, he had placed it in the perfect spot where she could sit for hours and watch the buds bloom one by one. The wood had aged with time but it remained sturdy, carrying the marks of years spent beneath the open sky.
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