The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 160

On the screen, Harriet carefully scrutinized Annelise's face for a reaction. But she was met with disappointment. Annelise's expression remained as unreadable and undisturbed as a frozen lake.

She simply asked the most practical question.

"Did he ask you about me?"

Harriet nodded immediately, like a child caught in a mistake. "He did. I don't know how he got the number for my house in the country, but he called. He asked me... he asked where you were."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I had no idea." Harriet's reply was swift and sharp. "Don't you worry, Miss, my lips are sealed. I told him I quit the Lehmans a long time ago and haven't spoken to you since. Whenever he pressed, I just played dumb."

Annelise nodded, a very faint, approving smile touching her lips. "You did perfectly, Harriet. If he asks again, keep giving him the same answer."

"Don't worry, Miss, I know."

After ending the call, the apartment slipped back into a state of absolute silence. Annelise walked over to the window and sat cross-legged on the wide sill, watching the occasional car speed down the street below, dragging long, lonely trails of light behind them.

Hackett Lehman.

He had sat in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by the remnants of her teenage years and the ghosts of her past, for an entire afternoon. What was going through his head?

Was he feeling remorse?

Or was he just making a pathetic attempt to dig up proof that he had once been loved?

Annelise seriously examined her own heart. And she realized that she genuinely didn't have much hatred left for him.

That overwhelming, all-consuming fury had peaked the moment she fled Cresthaven. Over the passing months in this distant, foreign land, buried beneath the peaceful routine of her daily life, that hatred had slowly cooled—like a volcano smothered under the heavy winter snow.

Now, what she felt toward him bordered on total apathy.

It wasn't a forced, spiteful kind of coldness. It was a genuine, bone-deep indifference.

That baby was the only thing in that entire, grotesque marriage she had genuinely wanted. It had felt like a gift from God.

Regret wasn't something time could cure. It could only be accepted.

Annelise stood up from the sill and walked over to the corner. She pulled out the slightly wilted baby's breath and replaced it with fresh stems. Then, she walked into the kitchen, poured out the old water, and refilled the glass jar with clean, fresh water.

She carefully placed the trimmed baby's breath back into the jar and returned it to its spot.

When she was done, she crouched down and gently brushed her fingertips against the cold pebble.

In a soft whisper meant only for herself, she spoke the exact same words she said every single night before going to bed.

"Mommy lived another good day today."

"Goodnight."