The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 169

June in Oslo officially ushered in the most dreamlike season of the year.

The sun barely set; even at midnight, the sky remained a bright, twilight-tinged deep blue.

Daylight was stretched infinitely, spanning nearly eighteen hours, plunging the entire city into a massive, prolonged white night.

Annelise gradually grew accustomed to living in this near-constant daylight.

Her biological clock perfectly recalibrated to a new rhythm.

By 5:00 AM, it was fully bright outside. She would get up and drive her used pickup truck to the wholesale flower market on the outskirts of town.

By 6:30 AM, she was back at the shop, working alongside Sophia—who always arrived early—prepping the day's stems.

At 8:00 AM, the shop doors opened on the dot, welcoming the first rays of morning sun and the first customers.

From 3:00 to 5:00 PM, she reserved time for teaching or her personal creative work.

At 6:00 PM, the shop closed.

After that, she would attend her Norwegian language class three times a week, or take long, slow walks along the Akerselva river, watching the water ripple under the endless daylight.

Her Norwegian improved drastically in this immersive daily routine.

She no longer needed Sophia's help; she could converse fluently with customers and even throw in a few harmless Norwegian jokes.

Business grew steadily alongside the summer.

Or she would ride the tram to the final stop, spending the whole afternoon hiking through the forests bordering the Oslofjord.

The Scandinavian forests were quiet, crisp, and filled with a raw, unpolished beauty.

Sunlight filtered through the tall pine branches, casting dappled shadows on the soft, moss-covered ground.

The air smelled incredibly sweet, a rich blend of pine needles and damp earth.

She would find a clean rock to sit on, pull a sandwich and a thermos of hot tea from her backpack, and spend a beautifully secluded afternoon entirely to herself.

This peaceful, rhythmic routine—filling every single minute with flowers and tangible work—acted as a gentle yet potent medicine, unknowingly healing the wounds she had thought would remain open forever.