The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 193

The rain began falling even harder.

The two of them turned into the narrow alley leading to their apartment building.

The vintage cast-iron streetlight at the entrance was still on, its dim yellow glow blurred by the heavy rain.

"What time tomorrow?" Yves asked.

"Five," Annelise said. "The market opens at six. If we go late, all the good stuff will be picked over."

"Five," Yves repeated, as if setting a mental alarm. "I'll wait for you downstairs."

"Aren't you tired?" Annelise looked a bit surprised. "Didn't you pull an all-nighter drawing blueprints yesterday?"

"Pulling an all-nighter for blueprints and waking up early are two different things," Yves said with utter seriousness. "The former takes your life. The latter gets you flowers."

Annelise let out a soft laugh at that.

It was her first genuine smile of the night.

It was brief, but very real.

The two reached the entrance of the apartment building.

Yves pulled open the heavy, carved door for her, and a rush of warm air hit their faces.

Annelise closed her umbrella, the rainwater dripping down the spokes onto the tiled foyer, forming a small puddle.

"The scarf," Yves reminded her.

Annelise finally remembered she was still clutching his dark blue wool scarf in her hand.

She looked down, folded it neatly, and handed it back to him.

"Keep it," Yves said, making no move to take it. "You haven't been wearing one, so your neck must be freezing. It'll be cold at the market tomorrow; you'll need it."

"But it's yours."

"I have three exactly like it at home," Yves replied. "When my ex-wife left, she thought the brand was tacky, so she didn't take a single one."

He mentioned his ex-wife with an incredibly flat tone, devoid of any emotional ripples.

Annelise looked at him.

She suddenly felt that the man standing in front of her and the man who had collapsed in the rain—despite being in the same city and the same storm—seemed to live in two completely different universes.

One had folded his past neatly and could speak of it with calm acceptance.

The other was standing out in the rain, drenched and pathetic, deluding himself into thinking a bout of illness could win back a second chance.

"Thank you." Annelise took the scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

The soft fleece lining pressed against her skin, incredibly warm.

"Head on up," Yves said, lifting his chin toward the second floor. "Get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

"You too."

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