The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 188

She didn't cry. The version of her that would have shed tears over Clarissa or Hackett had died three years ago at that extravagant engagement party.

She simply felt utterly exhausted. As though she had just crossed the finish line of a grueling, never-ending marathon, entirely drained of her last ounce of strength.

The boy had called her “Miss Anne.”

Not “Mom,” and not “the bad lady who hurt my mother.”

Just “Miss Anne.”

It was the perfect boundary.

That title acted like a key, unlocking the final shackle around her heart. She had finally made the cleanest, most absolute break from a past steeped in betrayal and humiliation.

From now on, their paths would never cross again. It was over.

The realization sank into the depths of her soul, sending out no ripples, settling into infinite peace.

Her life had finally, genuinely turned to a brand-new page.

Time continued to flow steadily, much like the quiet waters of the Oslo fjord.

Her third year in Scandinavia was drawing to a close.

One late November afternoon, a rare torrential downpour struck the city.

Rain in this region was usually a fine, chilling mist that soaked to the bone.

But this storm was exceptionally violent, thrashing down as if trying to scrub the entire world clean.

Massive raindrops pelted the shop's expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a relentless, deafening clatter.

Outside, the old linden tree swayed violently in the gale, struggling like a giant caught in a tempest.

Inside the shop, however, it was as warm as spring.

The heating was on full blast, and the air was thick with the rich, comforting fragrance of mixed roses and lilies.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify