The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 146

Lina's snow boot had come untied.

Before the little girl could even bend down to fix it, the towering Olaf instinctively dropped to one knee. Using his rough, calloused fisherman hands, he meticulously tied his daughter's shoelace for her.

Meanwhile, Lina playfully plucked a shiny plastic star off her Christmas hat, got up on her tiptoes, and carefully placed it atop her father's thick blonde hair.

"Papa, you're the Christmas tree now!"

The little girl's laughter chimed like silver bells.

Alyssa and her older brother joined in the laughter.

Olaf looked up, feigning anger as he lightly booped his daughter's nose.

The whole family simply collapsed into a fit of giggles under the warm glow of the porch light.

Annelise stood by the door, completely frozen for two seconds.

Then, she gently pulled the door open and stepped outside.

She didn't look back to say goodbye.

She was terrified her voice would shake if she tried to speak.

Walking back to her apartment, the snow began to fall harder.

The thick powder crunched beneath her boots in a steady, reassuring rhythm.

The street was entirely deserted.

Only her own long shadow kept her company, stretching and shrinking beneath the flicker of the streetlamps.

As she passed her flower shop, she noticed that the small candle lamp in the window was still on.

She must have forgotten to blow it out before she left.

She was just reaching into her bag for her keys to go inside and turn it off.

Then, she noticed something sitting on the three short steps leading up to the shop's entrance.

It was a small, brown paper bag.

On the front of the bag, a crude, incredibly endearing little Christmas tree had been hand-drawn in pencil.

Annelise's heart skipped a beat.

She could faintly make out his tall silhouette, hunched intently over his drafting table, lost in his work.

She didn't go upstairs to knock on his door and thank him.

She knew he didn't need her to.

He was using his own method to maintain a perfectly measured, gentle distance.

Standing in the snow, she slowly drank the entire cup of hot chocolate.

It was sweet. So sweet that it almost made her want to cry.

Then, she turned and walked back to her apartment.

She didn't turn on the lights. She picked through the pile of Christmas wreaths she had woven that afternoon and found the smallest one. It was a simple, unadorned ring made of a few fresh pine branches and tiny red berries, completely devoid of flashy decorations.

She walked over to the window and gently placed the little wreath on the sill. From up on the third floor, he should be able to see it right there.

It was her first Christmas in Scandinavia. She had no family, no lively parties, no massive tree covered in glowing stars. But she had a cup of piping hot chocolate that had warmed her straight to her core. And a little handmade wreath sitting on her very own windowsill.

Annelise thought to herself. *That’s enough.*