The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 186

Before dawn broke the next morning, Clarissa left.

As she was leaving, Annelise handed her a thousand euros in cash and a bus ticket to the airport.

“This is enough for you to survive for a month back home,” Annelise said, watching her from the apartment doorway. “In a month, I need to see a change.”

Clarissa didn't cry or drop to her knees again.

She simply took a long, deep look at her son sleeping soundly on the sofa, accepted the money, and walked silently into the biting chill of the Oslo morning.

Annelise shut the door, and the apartment plunged back into silence.

She walked over to the living room and gazed down at the makeshift bed she had set up on the couch.

Manuel was fast asleep, his tiny body curled into a ball, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks.

Annelise stood by the sofa for a moment before turning toward the kitchen.

She had no other choice.

She couldn't leave a three-year-old child locked in an apartment all by himself.

Later that morning, the staff at Daisy Flower witnessed something they would never forget.

Their fiercely independent boss—a woman usually as unapproachable as a solitary alpine flower—walked into the shop holding the hand of a breathtakingly beautiful little boy.

Sophia's jaw dropped so low it practically hit the floor.

She stared back and forth between Annelise and the angelic child clutching tightly to her coat, her facial expressions cycling rapidly enough to supply a year's worth of reaction memes.

“Oh my god! Anne! Is this...”

Before Sophia could finish, Annelise delivered the answer with total nonchalance.

“My ex-husband and ex-best friend's kid.”

She spoke while slipping the heavy winter coat off the boy and hanging it up.

“He's staying with me for a few days.”

Sophia and Emma instantly turned to stone.

It took their brains a full minute to process that colossal dump of information.

Then, Sophia rushed forward and threw her arms around Annelise.

“Oh my god, Anne! You're... you're an absolute saint!”

She picked him up, sat him on a high stool at the counter, and pulled out the best stem from the bucket to show him.

She taught him their names.

“This is a rose.”

“This is a lily.”

She picked up a small white flower, letting him smell it.

“This one is a daisy.”

Manuel followed along, trying his hardest to mimic her with his sweet, clumsy toddler pronunciation.

“Dai... sy.”

In that fleeting moment, it felt as though something sharp pierced Annelise's chest.

She thought back to years ago, on a sun-drenched balcony back in Cresthaven. Her young mother had held her hand the exact same way, pointing to a blooming pot, murmuring softly:

“Look, Anne. This is Mommy's favorite. It's called a daisy.”