Rose's POV
I woke up that morning with a heavy feeling in my chest. I could not explain it clearly but something inside me felt unsettled and tight. My thoughts were running in a hundred different directions and none of them were calm. I sat on the bed for a long moment trying to clear my mind, but every attempt only made things worse.
I reached for my book, hoping reading would distract me. Usually when I read, I feel peaceful. The words calm me and pull me into another world. But that morning, no matter how hard I tried, my eyes could not follow the sentences. My mind kept slipping away.
And each time it slipped, it went straight to Mickey.
It was not innocent thoughts either. They were warm and disturbing thoughts that made my heart beat faster for all the wrong reasons. It frightened me how easily he came into my mind. I tried to push him away again and again, but instead of disappearing, the thoughts became stronger. His smile, his voice, the way his eyes linger on mine.
Every part of my body reacted to the thoughts, and I hated myself for it.
I was a married woman. I belonged to a home. A family. I had no business thinking of Mickey in ways like this.
I shut the book gently and placed it on the table. My hands felt warm and restless. My heart was uncomfortable in my chest.
I needed something to pull me away. Something strong enough to break the thoughts repeating in my head. Something that would force my mind to focus on anything but Mickey.
I looked out the window and the sight of the huge flower garden caught my eye. It was wide and full of life, and for some reason I felt drawn to it.
Gardening.
I had never done it before. Never even touched soil with my bare hands. But maybe that was the point. I needed something new. Something physical. Something that would ground me and silence the storm in my mind.
Without overthinking, I changed into comfortable clothes and walked outside. The sun was still soft and warm, and the air smelled clean. As I walked toward the garden, I felt a small moment of relief. Even if it was just for a second, it was welcome.
The head gardener was already there. He was an older man with grey hair and a careful look on his face. When he saw me walking toward him, he looked startled. Almost afraid. His eyes widened as if he could not believe I was standing there.
He quickly straightened himself and greeted me.
"Good morning Rose," he said with a shaky voice. "What brings you to the garden this early?"
I smiled gently and pointed at the flowers.
"I want to help today," I said softly. "I want to do some gardening. Maybe pull some weeds. I just want to work with my hands."
The man froze. Fear rushed across his face like a shadow.
"Rose," he whispered, almost as if he was afraid someone else would hear him. "Please. I beg you. Maxwell would not like this. He would not want you bending or doing this kind of work. If he comes and sees you here, he will be angry with me. Please, Rose, you should go back inside."
His fear surprised me. I knew Maxwell was protective, but I had not realized the gardener felt this scared of him.
"You do not have to worry," I said calmly. "I will take responsibility. I need something to distract me today. Please allow me to help. I promise you are safe."
The gardener swallowed hard. His hands shook as he wiped sweat from his forehead.
"If you say so, Rose," he said with a stuttering breath.
He nodded nervously and pointed to a small patch near the flower bed.
"You can start there. Those weeds grow too fast. You can pull them from the roots. The soil is soft, so it should not hurt your fingers."
I knelt down carefully. The soil felt cool and soft beneath my hands. The smell of earth rose around me and brought a strange calmness. It was new. It was different. And for a moment, it helped.
But even as I pulled the first few weeds out, Mickey flashed into my mind again. His laugh. His hands. The way he made me feel things I was not supposed to feel.
I shook my head quickly and focused harder on the soil.
Behind me, the gardener kept giving instructions, but his voice never lost that tremble.
"Rose, not too hard. Please do not bend too much. I do not want you to get hurt. Maybe I should help instead."
I shook my head again.
"I want to do it myself," I said softly.
Minutes passed. Then almost an hour. My fingers became sore and my back ached, but I kept going. The work made me sweat. It made me tired. But it also gave me a strange form of peace.
Still, no matter how many weeds I pulled, I could not stop thinking of Mickey. I felt guilty each time his image appeared. Guilty because Maxwell trusted me. Guilty because I knew what was right but my mind kept choosing what was wrong.
After a long time, the gardener finally spoke again.
"Rose, please stop," he said gently. "You look tired. You have done enough. Please go inside and rest. If Maxwell sees you like this, he will be upset."
He was right. My body felt weak and drained. I stood up slowly. My arms felt heavy as I brushed the dirt off my clothes.
"Thank you for letting me help," I said.
He bowed his head slightly with fear still in his eyes.
"Please go and rest now, Rose," he said softly. "You look exhausted."
I nodded and walked back toward the mansion. As I walked, I tried to remind myself of all the good things in my life. I had a comfortable home. I had security. I had a husband who cared. I had reasons to be grateful.
I should not be thinking about another man. Especially not in ways that made my heart rush and my body feel light.
When I reached my room, I went straight into the bathroom. The warm bath relaxed my sore muscles and washed away the soil from my body. After stepping out, my entire body felt heavy with sleep.
I lay down and closed my eyes. Sleep came fast, like a soft blanket covering me.
I did not know how long I slept, but suddenly a loud barking sound woke me up. It was sharp and close. It startled me so much that my eyes opened wide immediately.
The barking continued just outside my bedroom door.
Before I could even move or understand what was happening, the door opened and a small golden haired puppy ran straight into my room.
The puppy jumped onto the bed with so much excitement that I had no time to react. It landed on me and began licking my face, my arms, my neck.
I gasped loudly as panic rushed through me.
"Stop. Stop please," I cried. "Please get off."
The puppy only became more excited. It licked faster.
And then the reaction started.
My skin began to itch. My throat tightened. My eyes watered uncontrollably. My body reacted instantly and violently.
Just then, the door opened wider and Maxwell stepped in. The moment he saw me struggling under the little dog, his eyes widened in shock.
"Rose," he said in a trembling voice. "What is happening? Are you alright?"
I pushed at the puppy with shaking hands and finally managed to speak through short panicked breaths.
"Maxwell," I cried. "I am severely allergic to dog saliva."
The words were weak and filled with fear.
The breakouts rose quickly on my skin. Red spots covered my arms, my neck, even the side of my face.
Maxwell looked terrified.
Tears filled my eyes. My chest burned. My skin felt like fire.
"Maxwell," I whispered with hurt in my voice. "How did you not know something this serious? How did you not know I am severely allergic to dog saliva?"
His eyes filled with guilt. He stared at the breakouts, his hands shaking as he held the puppy tightly and moved it away from me.
But all I could say, through the burning pain and the rising fear, were the same words again and again.
"I am severely allergic to dog saliva."