My Garden 5

The days that followed Alexander's visit to the shop felt like I was walking through a fog, my mind constantly torn between the pressure of my shop’s future and the impossible offer he’d made. The universe was giving me one problem after another, as if it couldn’t decide if it wanted me to sink or swim.

The phone call from Mr. Langley had been the first blow. The rent increase was more than just an inconvenience; it was a threat to everything I had worked for. The shop had been my safe haven, my escape from a world that often seemed indifferent to those who didn’t have power or influence. But now, that sanctuary was slipping away from me, and I had no idea how to stop it. Thirty percent more. How was I supposed to handle that?

I spent the night pacing my tiny apartment, my brain too jumbled to come up with a solution. No matter how hard I tried to focus, my mind kept drifting back to Alexander, and the more I thought about it, the more his offer seemed like the only option. I could already hear the thoughts swirling in my head: *Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe he’s just offering a helping hand. Maybe I’m just too proud to see it.* But something in my gut told me there was more to his offer than he was letting on, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that accepting it might come with strings attached.

The thought gnawed at me all night, even as I tried to push it away. I wasn’t the kind of woman who depended on anyone, especially not someone like him. I had built this shop on my own—every flower arrangement, every bouquet, every customer I’d greeted with a smile even when I was exhausted—it had all been me. I couldn’t just throw all that away because a billionaire thought I needed his charity. *But what if you need it?* a voice whispered in my head.

I ignored it.

The next day was no better. I arrived at the shop early, hoping to throw myself into work and forget the pressure mounting both outside and within. The soft scent of fresh flowers filled the space as I carefully trimmed stems, arranged bouquets, and prepared for the day’s customers. But it wasn’t enough to silence my thoughts. Alexander’s words kept replaying in my mind: I see something in you—your strength, your passion...

I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it all seemed. Strength? It felt more like desperation. If I didn’t find a solution, I could lose everything. The shop. The life I had fought so hard to build. But could I really accept his help? Could I bring myself to trust someone who seemed so out of touch with the real world?

Just as I was arranging a bouquet of irises, the bell above the door jingled. I looked up automatically, expecting a new customer, but instead, I froze. Standing in the doorway, framed by the sunlight streaming in from outside, was none other than Alexander Kane.

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I could hardly move. Why was he here? Didn’t he understand that I wanted nothing to do with his help?

"Alexander," I said, trying to sound neutral, though I could feel the sharp edge of irritation in my voice. "What are you doing here?"

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes scanning the shop, as if he were seeing it for the first time. His usual polished appearance was slightly disheveled—no tie, his sleeves rolled up, a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. For the first time since meeting him, he didn’t look like the cold, unreachable billionaire I had tried so hard to distance myself from. Instead, he looked... human.

"I came to speak with you in person," he said, his tone calm, yet firm. "I wanted to explain myself further. I didn’t think you’d respond to my messages."

I couldn’t help the bitterness that slipped into my voice. "I didn’t think I needed to. Your offer isn’t something I’m interested in, Alexander."

He didn’t flinch, his expression remaining unreadable. Instead, he walked further into the shop, as if he owned the place. "I understand you’re angry. I know it must seem like I’m trying to swoop in and fix things for you. But that’s not what this is about."

I couldn’t hold back a scoff. "Oh? Then what is it about? Because I can’t see how a billionaire who doesn’t even know how to arrange a bouquet has anything to offer me."

He smiled then, a small, wry smile that softened the sharp lines of his face. "It’s not about the flowers, Sophia. It’s about you."

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. "What does that even mean?"

He stepped closer, his voice lowering, almost as if he were afraid someone might overhear. "I see something in you. Something more than just the florist behind the counter. I see your determination. Your passion for what you do. Your ability to keep going even when the odds are stacked against you. It’s rare. And I want to help you."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. There it was again—his offer, wrapped in something that sounded like genuine admiration. But could I trust it? Could I trust *him*?

I took a deep breath and steadied myself, forcing my voice to remain even. "I don’t need your help, Alexander. I’ve done just fine on my own. I don’t need anyone coming in and offering solutions to problems I’m perfectly capable of handling."

He looked at me then, really looked at me, as if weighing my words against something only he could see. "I didn’t say you needed it," he replied slowly. "But I’m offering it, whether you take it or not. You can choose to accept it, or you can walk away from it. But I’m here because I believe in you, Sophia. And sometimes, letting people in doesn’t make you weak—it makes you stronger."

I felt something stir inside me at his words. There was sincerity there, an honesty that I hadn’t expected. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel the sting of vulnerability. Could I really allow him to help me? Would accepting his offer mean I was giving up on everything I had fought for?

Before I could respond, the door jingled again, and a customer entered, breaking the moment. I stepped back, retreating behind the counter as I greeted them, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. But as I worked, part of me couldn’t stop thinking about Alexander’s words, and the more I thought about it, the harder it became to ignore what he had said. *Letting people in makes you stronger.*

But I didn’t want to admit that I might need him. I didn’t want to give him that power over me.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, my mind not on the flowers or the customers, but on the one question I couldn’t seem to shake: *What do I do now?*

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the shop, I was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. I had spent the entire day pushing away the nagging voice in my head that told me accepting Alexander’s offer might be my only way out.

But I wasn’t ready to admit that. Not yet.

As I locked the door and turned off the lights, I glanced at my phone. Another message from him. The screen lit up with his name, and for a moment, I thought about deleting it without reading.

But I didn’t. I opened it instead.

Alexander: Take your time, Sophia. But remember, you’re not alone. I’m here when you’re ready.

And with those words, I realized something I hadn’t wanted to admit. Maybe the hardest part of all wasn’t just accepting his help—it was letting go of the idea that I had to do everything on my own.