Chapter 72: Petals of Remembrance

Mysa finally found Zinnia’s Heaven as the night draped its stillness over the neighborhood.

The rain had subsided to a soft patter, leaving the streets shimmering under the streetlights.

As she approached the shop, her eyes caught sight of a figure sitting on the staircase of a nearby house, face obscured in the shadows.

She paused, her heart twinging with sympathy.

The person seemed lost in contemplation, shoulders hunched against the night chill. For a moment, Mysa wondered about their story—perhaps a lover's quarrel, or a heartache that refused to heal.

She felt a pang of empathy deep within her as she imagined the weight of their thoughts and the loneliness they might be feeling.

She stood there for a moment, watching silently, unable to shake the feeling of sorrow that washed over her. What must have happened to the guy that he was sitting there? Was he alright?

‘Anyway, it’s none of my business,’ she thought to herself.

Pushing aside her thoughts, Mysa turned towards the floral shop. Its windows glowed warmly, beckoning her into a world of colors and fragrances.

The shop was open, even though it was nighttime.

As Mysa pushed open the door to Zinnia’s Heaven, the warm glow of ambient lighting welcomed her into a realm of floral splendor.

The shop was quiet and serene, illuminated by soft, gentle lights that accentuated the vibrant colors of the blooms around her. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, mingling with the subtle aroma of earth and greenery.

She stepped further into the shop, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished wooden floor.

There was a sense of tranquility in the air, contrasting with the stormy emotions churning within her.

Despite the late hour, the shop exuded a timeless charm that seemed to beckon her deeper into its embrace.

Mysa scanned the familiar surroundings, feeling a sense of déjà vu wash over her.

She wandered among the shelves adorned with vibrant flowers and delicate vases.

The soft glow of lamplight illuminated each bloom, casting intricate shadows that danced around her.

Mysa paused before a display of irises, their deep purple petals unfurling like secrets whispered in the night.

As she traced her fingers lightly over the smooth petals, a fleeting memory brushed against her consciousness — a laughter-filled afternoon spent arranging flowers with someone dear to her heart.

A soft, blurry flashback unfolded before Mysa's eyes.

She stood in a sunlit room, surrounded by an array of colorful flowers. Laughter echoed around her as she and another person, their faces just out of focus, carefully arranged blooms into elegant bouquets. The warmth of belonging to somewhere enveloped her, a sense of belonging that felt like home.

She wondered for a moment if she has ever been to this place before, like the woman she met before said. This place, Alabama, was her roots.

A lump formed in her throat as she struggled to grasp onto the memory, like trying to hold onto sunlight slipping through her fingers. The scent of roses mingled with the faint aroma of incense, stirring emotions she couldn't quite name.

Another fragment of memory teased at the edges of her consciousness — a fleeting image of a garden party under a canopy of cherry blossoms, soft petals drifting lazily on a spring breeze. The sound of music and the murmur of conversation filled the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of jasmine and lilac.

Mysa blinked, the flashback fading back into the present like a dream dissipating with the dawn. She stood in Zinnia’s Heaven once more, the soft glow of the shop wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

Could Flora have intentionally directed her here, knowing it might trigger memories from her past? Did Mysa visit this place a lot back when she lived here?

The thought lingered in her mind as she approached a staircase that led to the upper floor.

Just as she contemplated ascending, the shop's door jingled softly behind her.

Startled, Mysa turned, her breath catching in her throat as she saw him — Draven, standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined against the dimly lit night outside.

Their eyes locked, and a rush of emotions flooded through Mysa — surprise, disbelief, and a deep-seated longing.

Draven's expression mirrored her own tumultuous feelings, his gaze fixed on her as if trying to confirm that she was real.

"Mysa," he breathed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and relief.

Draven stood before her, his eyes wide with emotions she couldn't quite place. His presence stirred something deep within her, a faint echo of familiarity that tugged at her heart.

She felt a connection, a spark ignited by those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through her. But she couldn't grasp why or how.

He took a step closer, hesitating for a moment before reaching out tentatively. "It's really you," he murmured, his hand hovering in the air between them.

She felt a connection, a feeling of connection ignited by those piercing blue eyes that were puffy and red yet managed to see straight through her. But she couldn't grasp why or how.

Draven finally closed the distance between them in swift strides, his face breaking into a wide, relieved smile.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled Mysa into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her cold body as if to anchor her back to reality.

"I missed you so much," he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Where have you been all this time? I knew you were alive, Mysa. I never stopped believing. Everyone said you were dead, but I knew you were alive."

Mysa stiffened in his embrace, her mind swirling with confusion and apprehension. His warm body and tight grip made my chest feel uneasy.

She pushed against his chest gently, creating a small but deliberate distance between them.

Her eyes searched his face, trying to reconcile the stranger before her with the intensity of his emotions.

"Please... stop," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Who are you?" Her words hung heavy in the air, punctuated by her uncertainty.

Draven froze, his arms dropping to his sides as shock and hurt flickered across his features. He took a step back, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mysa… you don’t know me? I am your Draven."

“Draven….” That name did ring a bell in her head, but she couldn’t figure it out. “Draven, who?”