The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 189

Water streamed heavily down his dark hair and obscured his face.

He stood there, motionless, separated by a flooded street and rain-streaked glass, staring relentlessly at her shop.

He looked like a silent, abandoned statue left to weather the storm.

Annelise's heart skipped a beat in that very second.

Her blood practically froze in her veins.

Three years.

She thought she was entirely immune.

She believed she was strong enough to face any ghost from her past with unshakeable calm.

But as she recognized that agonizingly familiar silhouette through the downpour.

Her chest seized as if gripped by an invisible hand.

It wasn't affection. It wasn't lingering attachment. It certainly wasn't love.

It was a dull, buried ache—like an old wound that had healed years ago but stubbornly throbbed whenever it rained.

The man outside was significantly thinner and far more haggard than the person she remembered.

The pristine white lab coat that had once symbolized his elite status was gone, replaced by a dark, soaked trench coat.

The collar flipped wildly in the gale, making him look unspeakably defeated and disheveled.

It was Hackett Lehman.

As the shock momentarily blanked her mind, the door to the back stairs quietly swung open.

Yves strode down into the shop, holding a long clear umbrella in one hand and a navy blue wool scarf in the other.

Stepping up to the counter, he placed them down gently.

“You left these upstairs yesterday,” he said. His voice, deep and resonant like the smooth strike of a cello string, instantly broke the stifling tension in the air. “It's pouring. Take the umbrella when you leave.”

Slowly, Annelise pulled her gaze from the blurred figure across the street.

She looked at the neatly folded scarf, then at Yves's calm face, briefly at a loss for words.

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