Freedom didn’t feel real at first.
It felt quiet.
Too quiet.
Until we arrived at the cottage.
The greenhouse behind it gleamed in sunlight, alive with possibility. Emma ran through the halls laughing—a sound I hadn’t heard in years. Not forced. Not careful. Free.
We planted Margaret’s seeds together.
Day by day, something inside me changed.
I wasn’t surviving anymore.
I was rebuilding.
“Bloom, Sarah.”
Her words became my anchor.
And slowly, I did.
