My Garden 2

The next morning, the faint golden light of dawn crept through the curtains of my tiny apartment, filtering onto the worn wooden floorboards that had seen better days. I stretched, rubbing my eyes as I sat up in bed, the events of yesterday still fresh in my mind. Alexander Kane. The name felt like a weight lodged somewhere between my ribs, heavy and uncomfortable. I had tried to push it out of my mind, to focus on my work, but something about his eyes—his quiet persistence—lingered.

I ran a hand through my messy hair, sighing as I stood up and made my way to the small kitchen nook. I wasn’t one to dwell on things. I had a shop to run, bills to pay, and a garden that needed tending. My mother always told me that when you work with your hands, you don’t have time to worry about other things. And yet, Alexander had somehow gotten under my skin. I didn’t like it.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I leaned against the counter, staring out the window at my tulip garden below. The colors were bright, vibrant, a perfect contrast to the dark thoughts swirling inside me. They had always been my sanctuary, my refuge from the world. But today, even the garden couldn’t calm the storm inside my chest.

I had been clear with Alexander. I had made it more than obvious that I wasn’t interested in selling my tulips to him, not for any amount of money. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to try again. Men like him didn’t just give up. His arrogance, that cold, polished exterior—there was no way he would just walk away. And I wasn’t ready to deal with it again.

But I knew I couldn’t ignore it. I had worked too hard to get where I was. I had been through too much to let someone like him waltz in and take what wasn’t his.

The bell above the door of my shop jingled, snapping me out of my thoughts. I set down my coffee, my heart racing slightly. I had been preparing myself all morning for this. I wasn’t going to back down. If Alexander Kane thought he could waltz in and change my mind, he had another thing coming.

But it wasn’t Alexander who walked through the door. Instead, it was a familiar face—the older woman who owned the bakery down the street. Mrs. Albright.

"Good morning, Sophia," she greeted me with a warm smile, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "I brought you some fresh rolls. Thought you might need a little something to brighten your day."

I exhaled, the tension I hadn’t realized I was holding in my shoulders easing a bit. "You’re too kind, Mrs. Albright," I said, smiling back at her. "Thank you, I really needed this."

She placed the basket of rolls on the counter, her eyes scanning the shop before landing on the tulips in the window. "Your garden looks beautiful as always. It’s the pride of Eldenbrook, you know."

I felt a warmth spread through me at her words. Mrs. Albright was one of the few people in this town who understood. She had seen my mother’s work firsthand, and she had been there for me after my mother’s passing. We didn’t need to say much to each other, but there was a comfort in her presence that I cherished.

"I’m doing my best to keep it that way," I said quietly, feeling a pang of sadness in my chest.

She tilted her head, sensing something was off. "What’s troubling you, dear?"

I hesitated, my mind drifting back to the man in the suit—the man who had barged into my life with nothing more than promises and a shiny business card. But I couldn’t tell her everything. I had too much pride for that.

"It’s just... business, I suppose," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing to worry about."

But Mrs. Albright wasn’t fooled. "Sophia," she said gently, "if something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me. You’ve been through a lot, and I know you don’t like to ask for help. But you don’t have to carry the weight of everything on your own."

I swallowed, my throat tight. Mrs. Albright had always been the one to offer a shoulder when I needed it, even if I never took her up on it. But today, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed someone to hear me out, to share my frustration.

"It’s a man," I said before I could stop myself, my voice dripping with irritation. "A businessman who wants to buy my tulips, or at least get his hands on them for his research or whatever. And when I told him no, he just... wouldn’t leave. Kept pushing. Like he knows better than me what my flowers are worth."

Her brow furrowed. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him to leave, of course. But there’s something about him—he’s persistent, and he’s used to getting what he wants. I can’t just let him take what’s mine."

Mrs. Albright chuckled softly, the sound full of warmth and understanding. "Sounds like you met a man who doesn’t take no for an answer."

I nodded. "Exactly. He seems like the type who thinks money can solve everything. But I’m not for sale. Not my flowers, not my life."

"Good for you, Sophia," she said, placing a hand on my arm. "Stick to your guns. People like him only respect strength."

I smiled faintly, grateful for her words. "I will. I won’t back down. But I can’t help but wonder why he’s so insistent."

She looked at me with a knowing expression, one that made my heart beat a little faster. "Maybe he sees something in you—something he can’t have."

I blinked, caught off guard by her comment. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Sometimes, it’s not the business we’re chasing. Sometimes, it’s something else. Something... deeper."

I didn’t know how to respond to that. The thought of Alexander Kane seeing something in me—something beyond my flowers—seemed impossible. He was a man who built empires. He didn’t need someone like me in his life. But then again, there was that flicker in his eyes when he spoke to me yesterday. Maybe Mrs. Albright was right. Maybe there was more to his persistence than I cared to admit.

"Well," she said, standing up and adjusting her apron, "I won’t keep you. Just know you’re not alone, Sophia. If you ever need anything, you can always come to me."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Thank you, Mrs. Albright. I mean it."

As she left, the weight of her words lingered in the air. There was a part of me that wanted to dismiss them, to shove the thought of Alexander Kane even further from my mind. But deep down, I couldn’t. I couldn’t ignore the fact that he had left an imprint on me, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? I wasn’t supposed to care about him. But I did. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending that I didn’t.

But one thing was clear: if Alexander Kane thought he could waltz back into my life and make me bend to his will, he was gravely mistaken.

This time, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.