Chapter 7: Flowers and Fate

A few months later, I gave birth to a daughter. I named her Annie, hoping she’d live a peaceful, safe life.

The hospital room was small but bright. I cradled her in my arms, marveling at the tiny miracle I’d created. Annie was the only thing that felt real anymore.

Annie was sensible from an early age. During my postpartum recovery, I developed mastitis and had to wean her early, but she was obedient, never crying or fussing.

She took to bottles easily, sleeping through the night while I struggled with fever and pain. Sometimes, she’d reach up and pat my cheek, her blue eyes full of quiet understanding.

When she was two, she had a fever for several days. At night, as I cried in secret, she wiped away my tears and softly said, “Mommy, don’t cry, don’t cry…”

Her little fingers brushed away my tears. I held her close, heart breaking at her kindness. She was already braver than I’d ever been.

Many times, I felt grateful that I’d chosen to keep her.

In the dark, I’d whisper thank you to the universe, hoping someone was listening. Annie’s laughter filled our tiny apartment, making even the hardest days bearable.

Ever since my mother passed away, I hadn’t felt this kind of happiness in a long time.

There were quiet mornings with pancakes and cartoons, lazy afternoons in the park, long bedtime stories beneath patchwork quilts. For the first time in years, I let myself hope.

Raising a child kept me busy, and time flew by. In the blink of an eye, Annie was three and a half.

She started asking questions about everything—Why is the sky blue? Can dogs talk? Do clouds taste like marshmallows? I answered every one, grateful for the distraction.

After much consideration, I decided to return to the States with her. European food was hard to get used to, and life abroad always felt rootless.

We missed American coffee, real bagels, and the chaos of busy streets. I wanted Annie to grow up with the same TV shows and playground games I knew as a kid.

I worried about running into Derek. What if he found out about Annie and tried to take her away?

The fear haunted me at night. I double-checked locks, avoided old haunts, stayed off social media. I even dyed my hair, just in case.

But then I thought, he’d probably married Rachel by now—maybe even had a child of his own. As for me, I was just a fleeting shadow; he must have forgotten me long ago.

The world keeps spinning, and people move on. I tried to convince myself that Derek had, too.

Besides, Chicago is so big. As long as I avoided the places they frequented, we’d never meet.

The city was a maze, and I knew how to stay invisible. Annie and I would make our own path.

So, after many years, I brought Annie back to Chicago. I bought a second-hand apartment in a good school district. The previous owner’s decor was cozy, so we could move in right away.

The place smelled like vanilla and fresh paint. Annie claimed the room with the window seat, and I let her decorate it with sparkly stickers and fairy lights.

I also rented a flower shop nearby. This way, I could take care of Annie and have work to do.

The shop was small but charming—sunny windows, creaky floors, a bell that jingled whenever someone came in. I filled the windows with daisies and roses, hoping to attract neighborhood foot traffic.

One weekend, I received a last-minute order. The customer chose the most expensive bouquet and requested urgent delivery.

I glanced at the clock. It was already late, but I couldn’t turn down such a big sale. The order paid for a week’s groceries.

I waited a long time, but no courier accepted the order. With no other choice, I decided to deliver it myself.

I bundled Annie up, but she protested, so I left her with our neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez. The city was chilly, the wind biting as I set out.

The address was in the city’s most upscale gated community—a long way from my flower shop.

The security guard eyed my dusty sedan, but the order confirmation got me through. I navigated winding lanes lined with maples and million-dollar homes.

After much effort, I arrived and rang the bell for a long time, but no one answered. Just as I was about to call, the door opened.

I adjusted my mask, tugged my jacket tighter. The door swung open to reveal a face I’d never truly forgotten.

Derek Callahan appeared before me, unexpectedly.

He looked older, sharper somehow—his jaw more defined, the lines at the corners of his mouth deeper. My breath caught in my throat.

Four years had passed. He was thinner now, but even more mature and cold.

He wore a charcoal sweater, his hair tousled as if he’d run his hands through it too many times. There was a sadness in his eyes I’d never seen before.

“Who are you looking for?”

His voice was curt, the same tone he used with strangers and subordinates. My heart hammered as I struggled to keep my composure.

His hands were in his pockets, his tone impatient.

He tapped his foot, glancing at his phone as if he had somewhere else to be.

“Hello, your flowers.”

I held out the bouquet, forcing my voice steady. The wind whipped around us, carrying the faint scent of roses between us.

I quickly handed him the gift box. Luckily, it was windy and I wore a mask. Compared to the days when I wore delicate makeup for him, today I was barefaced. I figured he wouldn’t recognize me.

My hands shook as I pressed the box into his hands. I kept my eyes down, hoping the mask would be enough to hide my features. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.

Sure enough, he just glanced at me, took the flowers without expression, and closed the door.

He didn’t say thank you. The door clicked shut, muffling the sounds of the house behind him. I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding me.

I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to leave.

I fumbled for my car keys, eager to get back to Annie. But as I stepped off the porch, his voice stopped me cold.

Suddenly, he called out, “Wait a minute.”

I froze, bouquet wilting in my grip, every muscle screaming to run. But I couldn’t move—not when the past had just opened the door.