Chapter 2: Flowers and Fissures
646 Words
AURELIA
I wake up to the soft chirping of birds outside my window, sunlight pooling on the sheets like warm honey. Morning in this town is quiet, peaceful. Still a bit strange, even after six months.
No bells ringing for morning prayers. No Sister Patricia reminding me of chores. Just silence, my thoughts, and the occasional creak of my little home settling into itself.
Six months ago, I left the only place I’d ever known, the convent. Sister Patricia was afraid I wouldn’t last outside. But I needed to try. I needed to know who I was, outside those walls.
So here I am now. Living in a small town. Running a flower shop. Learning how to live.
I pad barefoot into the kitchen, boil water, and fix myself a cup of tea. The floral mug is chipped at the handle, but it’s my favorite. It reminds me of the first thing I ever owned that wasn’t handed down. A small act of independence.
Today’s to-do list runs through my mind:
1. Open the shop by 9 a.m.
2. Finish the wedding bouquet for Mrs. Elkins’ daughter.
3. Restock the white tulips.
4. Deliver the sympathy arrangement to the old doctor’s office.
The walk to my shop is short. Familiar faces pass by: Mrs. Abernathy watering her plants, Mike waving from the café window.
My little flower store, “Lia’s Special Wishes”, sat on a quiet street corner. People in this town were kind and calm, a far cry from the chaos I always imagined the world outside the convent to be.
The bell above the door jingled as I stepped in, smiling. I flipped the “Closed” sign to “Open” and unlocked the windows. The soft scent of roses and lilies greeted me like an old friend.
I began my routine, watering the potted plants, arranging a fresh bouquet for the front window, and humming a quiet hymn I remembered from the convent.
A soft knock on the glass door made me look up.
Jared.
I smiled and waved him in. “Good morning.”
He stepped inside, holding two cups of coffee. “I brought your usual.”
“Jared, you don’t have to keep doing this.”
“I want to.” His voice was gentle, his smile even more so.
I took the coffee, warmed by the gesture. “Thank you.”
He looked around the shop. “It’s peaceful here. Like you.”
“Peaceful?” I raised a brow.
He grinned. “Yeah. Like a... living lullaby.”
I blushed and turned away, suddenly focused on trimming some thorns off the rose stems.
Jared stepped closer. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. You free Friday evening?”
I opened my mouth to respond but didn’t get the chance.
The door swung open.
Hard.
The force made the bell jangle violently, slamming back into the glass. My eyes widened as a man stormed in. Dark, towering, and brooding.
It was him.
The same man who had been watching me earlier in the week. The same man who stood across the street two days ago, unmoving like a shadow.
I froze.
He didn’t say a word. His eyes were locked on Jared, more accurately, on Jared’s hand, which was still resting lightly on my shoulder.
The silence crackled.
Then he took a step forward. A storm followed in his wake.
Jared moved instinctively, standing protectively in front of me. “Hey, man, can I help you?”
The man’s eyes narrowed, voice low. “Move.”
I clutched Jared’s arm. “Jared... it’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. Something deep inside told me this wasn’t okay at all.
The stranger’s eyes shifted to mine, and my heart stopped.
We stared.
The air between us turned electric.
Then, with slow, deadly steps, he started walking toward me.
- Writer
