The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 210

The letter from Paris stayed pressed in Annelise's purse for three whole days.

The studio's blueprints were finalized, and the initial sketch of the new sign sat neatly on Yves's drafting table.

Sophia and Emma left early that night, while Annelise stayed late to check the placement of the iron flower racks.

By the time she finally locked the heavy wooden doors of the old bookstore, it was past nine o'clock.

Old Town's pedestrian street was already empty, a thin layer of frost clinging to the cobblestones as the streetlights stretched her shadow long across the ground.

She wrapped her navy-blue scarf tighter and headed toward her apartment.

As she reached the second intersection, a tall silhouette shifted out of the shadows and blocked her path.

Annelise stopped in her tracks.

Hackett stood under the streetlight, looking even thinner than he had at the market.

He didn't have an umbrella, nor was he dressed warmly enough. His thin trench coat was wrapped around him, his body shivering faintly in the cold.

His eyes were terrifyingly red, like a man who hadn't slept for days, or had been sobbing endlessly.

"Anne," he spoke first, his hoarse voice barely a whisper. "I've been waiting for you for a long time."

Annelise stared at him, her gaze completely flat—no surprise, no avoidance.

She looked at him exactly the same way she'd look at a puddle of dirty slush under the streetlight.

"Move," she said.

"Just listen to me for one second." Hackett took half a step forward but stopped abruptly, as if terrified of spooking her. "Just one sentence."

"I have nothing to hear."

"I've dropped everything back home," he pleaded rapidly, his words tumbling out. "The company, the hospital, all the Lehman family's mess—I'm not managing any of it anymore. I'm staying in Oslo. I rented an apartment right across from your flower shop. I watch you open the doors every day. I watch you arrange flowers. I watch you smile. Anne, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to stay here and watch over you."

Annelise listened to him quietly.

She didn't get angry; she didn't even frown.

"You're going to watch over me." She repeated the words, her tone deadpan. "Why?"

"Because I was wrong." Hackett's eyes welled with fresh tears. "I was a fool back then. I was manipulated by Clarissa Sherwood, I failed to protect our child, and I let my mother hit you. For the last three years, every night I dream about the lights in that operating room. Anne, my guts are rotting with regret."

"So what?"

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