Chapter 3: Flowers for the Past

Selene stood in front of the old flower shop, her hands shaking slightly as she reached for the door handle. The little bell above the door rang as she stepped inside, releasing the soft scent of roses and jasmine. The place hadn’t changed. Wooden shelves still lined the walls, filled with colorful flowers in glass vases.

A kind-looking woman behind the counter smiled. “Can I help you, dear?”

Selene nodded. “I’d like to buy some lilies. White ones, please.”

“Of course,” the woman said, walking to the fridge. “A special occasion?”

Selene looked down at her hands. “Something like that.”

As the woman wrapped the flowers, Selene’s mind drifted back to the day of her father’s funeral. She had been dressed in black, standing beside her mother and aunt, completely silent. She hadn’t cried. She couldn’t. Elijah had stood behind her, whispering that strong women didn’t cry. And she believed him.

Now, she knew better.

She took the bouquet and thanked the woman before heading to the cemetery.

The walk was quiet, only the sound of birds and her own footsteps. The wind brushed her cheeks as if the world was gently reminding her she was still alive.

When she reached the grave, her heart began to ache.

There it was.

Marcus Vargas

Beloved father, kind soul. 1969–2023.

She knelt slowly, placing the lilies at the foot of the stone. Her fingers traced the engraved letters. The cool stone felt like ice against her skin.

“Hi, Dad,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

A tear fell onto the ground. She didn’t wipe it away.

“I should have come sooner. I should have said goodbye properly. But I didn’t know how.”

Her voice cracked.

“They told me to move on. They said I had to be strong. That crying was weakness. But... you never believed that, did you?”

She remembered his warm smile, the way he’d ruffle her hair, call her his “little fire.” He always told her that feeling things deeply was a strength, not a weakness.

“I miss you. I miss who I was when you were still here.”

She sat beside the grave, hugging her knees.

“Elijah proposed the day after your funeral,” she said softly. “Mom said it was what you would’ve wanted. But you wouldn’t have agreed to this. You would’ve told me to follow my heart. To run if something didn’t feel right.”

Selene let herself cry — really cry — for the first time in a long while. And it felt like pieces of her broken heart were finally being seen.

“I’m changing things now,” she said. “I’m not marrying Elijah. I’m not pretending anymore. I’m starting over.”

A breeze swept past, warm and soft, like a gentle hug. She smiled through her tears.

“I hope that wherever you are, you’re proud of me.”

She sat there for a long time, watching the clouds move slowly across the sky.

When she finally stood to leave, the world felt lighter. She felt lighter.

She wasn’t done yet. There were still people she needed to face. Still choices to make. But now, she had a little more strength.

Because she had said goodbye.

And she was finally ready to begin again.

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