The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 136

Dr. Thomas was stunned.

He stared into her crystal-clear eyes that seemed to hide an endless abyss, ultimately deciding not to press the issue.

He merely sighed, put on a fresh pair of gloves, and began treating the horrifying wounds with even softer, more cautious movements.

Debridement, disinfection, suturing.

The icy tip of the needle pierced her skin, sending wave after wave of sharp, stabbing pain.

But Annelise didn't make a sound.

She bit down hard on her lip, swallowing all the pain back down into her gut.

The doctor prescribed top-tier antibiotics and a healing ointment, carefully explaining the dosages.

By the time she walked out of the clinic, the sky had turned completely overcast.

Tiny, white particles began drifting down through the air.

It was snowing.

Oslo's first snowfall of the year.

The flakes were tiny, like crushed salt, falling silently from the gray sky.

They landed on her hair and her long eyelashes, melting into cool beads of water.

Annelise stood on the clinic steps for a moment.

She reached out a hand and caught a tiny snowflake.

It instantly melted in her palm, leaving behind an icy patch of moisture.

Suddenly, she thought of Cresthaven.

It never snowed in Cresthaven.

Pulling her cashmere scarf tight around her neck, she buried half her face in it, leaving only her bright eyes exposed.

Then, she slowly made her way back toward the apartment, step by step.

On her way back, she passed a flower shop.

It was a tiny store with a warm, ginger-yellow storefront that looked like a little house from a fairy tale against the dreary snow.

Instead of bright bouquets, the window was filled with exquisite holiday wreaths made of pinecones, cinnamon sticks, dried orange slices, and red berries.

A little girl in a red sweater had her hands pressed against the glass, pointing excitedly at the largest wreath while chatting away to her mother.

Annelise stopped in her tracks.

She stood outside the window, staring quietly through the freezing glass for a long time.

A vague idea began to form in her mind.

An idea about flowers, beauty, and rebirth.

When she got back to the apartment, Annelise didn't turn on the lights.

She threw herself onto the soft couch and, for the first time, allowed her mind to go completely blank.

She just sat there quietly until the sky outside went pitch black.

Then, she got up and pulled the yellowing volume of Tagore's poetry from the very bottom of her suitcase.

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