The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 165

Annelise left the sealed envelope on the entryway console.

Upon completing the motion, it felt as though she had finally concluded a long, drawn-out farewell ceremony, and the tightly coiled string inside her completely relaxed.

The next morning, on her way to the flower shop, she dropped the letter into the red mailbox downstairs.

The sharp clank of the metal slot falling shut sounded like a definitive period, cleanly severing the final ties to all the grudges and entanglements of her distant past.

With the arrival of spring, business at Daisy Flower exploded at an unimaginable pace.

The lingering hype from the Oslo Aficionado feature, coupled with the onset of wedding and party season, meant Annelise and Sophia were busy from morning until night, barely even finding time to grab a drink.

For the first time, Sophia, the fiercely energetic redhead, realized what it meant to be utterly overwhelmed.

"Oh my god, Anne!" Sophia yelled out that afternoon, deftly wrapping a custom birthday bouquet while looking back at Annelise in the prep room. "We seriously need to hire another person—no, make that two!"

"Three more customers just asked me how we make the arrangements in the shop, and they want to learn!" Sophia handed the wrapped bouquet to the customer, turning back to Annelise with sparkling eyes. "Anne, your skills are so good that everyone wants to steal your secrets!"

Stepping out of the back room, Annelise paused what she was doing.

She remembered the fresh notebook she used as her business journal, which recorded special feedback from customers. On multiple occasions, people had expressed a desire for the shop to offer beginner classes.

That evening, Alyssa called, bringing up the same old subject.

"Anne, listen to me. Hire some help! Or better yet, start a class, take on some students, and have them assist you! Look at you, you're running yourself into the ground like a superhero!" Alyssa's voice practically dripped with concern over the phone.

After hanging up, Annelise sat behind the counter, staring out at the twilight-draped streets of Grünerløkka, lost in thought.

She had to admit, Alyssa and Sophia were right.

She needed help.

More importantly, when Sophia had mentioned that everyone wanted to 'steal her secrets,' she hadn't felt protective or anxious; instead, she felt a unique, affirming surge of joy.

Her mother's notes had said that a good florist helps the flower tell its story.

Perhaps teaching others how to listen to those stories was also part of a florist's calling.

Once the idea took root, it grew wildly, like a seed planted in rich soil.

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