He woke up the next morning, unlike his usual self.
The light slipped through the curtains, but this time it wasn't as heavy as he was used to feeling it.
He reached out to the small table beside the bed, where the bouquet of flowers rested near his wife's photo.
He stared at them for a long while. The vivid colors still held their freshness, as if they were breathing a different spirit into the room—one that didn't resemble the darkness of the past year.
He smiled faintly, an awkward smile, as though testing something new within his heart—something he hadn't tasted in a long time.
But the smile quickly faded when his eyes fell on his wife's picture.
His heart trembled again, as if he had betrayed her simply by smiling.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands, breathing deeply.
He was caught between two fires:
His old longing for a woman who had left forever, and his fear of opening his heart to another—only for fate to drown him in loss once more.
---
And yet, he found himself in the small street again.
He wasn't obliged, no one asked him, nothing forced him… but he went.
When he opened the door, a new fragrance welcomed him—a blend of lavender and white roses.
He saw her standing behind the counter, arranging flowers with care, her hair swaying gently as she moved her head, and a calm smile lighting her face when she looked up at him.
—"Hello…" she said simply, but her tone carried a warmth he hadn't known in a long time.
He stepped closer, hesitant.
—"Hi…"
He wasn't good with words, but her presence made his silence seem acceptable.
---
He sat in the same seat that had now become his usual spot.
She asked gently:
—"Will you have your black coffee again today?"
He nodded, and she smiled as she prepared it.
She placed the cup before him, but this time she added a small piece of chocolate beside it.
—"A new experience… sometimes bitterness needs a touch of sweetness."
He lifted his gaze to her, as though trying to read what lay behind her words.
He felt that every word she spoke carried more meaning than it seemed on the surface.
---
A long silence stretched between them, yet it wasn't an unpleasant silence.
It was more like hidden music only his heart could hear.
And after a few minutes, he suddenly spoke, not knowing how the words escaped him:
—"My wife… passed away a year ago."
His voice shrank at the end of the sentence, as if fearing her reaction.
But she didn't show exaggerated surprise. She only looked at him with eyes shining with sympathy.
—"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
—"I didn't know, but I felt… that there was a shadow following you."
He lowered his eyes to the cup, trying to hide a wavering tear.
—"That shadow never leaves me… no matter how hard I try."
She leaned closer and said:
—"Maybe you shouldn't try to get rid of it. Sometimes, we carry our past with us… but we can still learn to walk with our shadows without letting them crush us."
---
Her words struck him in a strange way.
He hadn't spoken to anyone since his wife's death; he had never dared to bare what his heart carried.
And now, here he was, pouring out a part of his pain to a girl whose name he barely knew.
—"Why do you care?" he asked suddenly.
She hesitated for a moment, then said:
—"Because I see something in your eyes… something that looks like me."
He was taken aback.
—"Like you?"
She smiled a sad smile, but didn't explain further.
Instead, she quickly changed the subject:
—"Would you like me to show you a special place in the neighborhood?"
---
She stepped out from behind the counter and motioned for him to follow.
He hesitated for a moment, then rose.
They walked together through narrow alleys, their steps in sync, though their silence stretched longer than their words.
She led him to a small garden hidden between buildings.
He hadn't known such a place existed in the heart of the city.
Trees surrounded it on all sides, wildflowers grew freely as if refusing to be tamed.
In the center stood an old wooden bench, its paint peeling away.
—"This is where I escape when I need silence," she said as she sat on the bench.
—"The flowers in the shop are beautiful, but they're too arranged… Here, they grow as they wish, without rules."
He sat beside her, taking in the place.
He felt an odd sense of peace.
Perhaps because the corner was far from the city's noise, or perhaps because her nearness was slowly breaking the wall he had built around his heart.
---
They spoke a little about small things: childhood, old streets, the smell of bread in the morning.
The words weren't deep, yet they built a fragile bridge between his dark world and hers, which seemed full of life.
And when he returned to his apartment that evening, he felt that the garden wasn't just a place… but the beginning of a new path, one he had never imagined.
He stood before his wife's photo and whispered:
—"I don't know if you'll forgive me… but I can't stay in the darkness forever."
---
That night, he didn't just smile for a brief moment—he fell asleep smiling.
And for the first time in a year, he dreamed of something other than accidents and blood.
He dreamed of a garden full of flowers, and a girl sitting on a wooden bench, waving at him with a smile that radiated peace.