We Parted When The Bellflowers Bloomed

Five years after I altered my face and faked my death, Nolan walked into my flower shop.

A bouquet of white bellflowers, please. Pack them carefully. My late wife was very particular about these things.

My hand froze in the middle of trimming a stem. Only then did it strike me, with a dull, echoing ache, that today was the anniversary of my death.

White bellflowers. Their language was hopeless love.

Once, he had despised these pale, muted blossoms. During our worst arguments, he had even mocked me, saying I was just like them: bland, uninteresting, and entirely lacking the vibrant warmth of Yvonne.

And now, he was buying them to mourn me.

As he turned to leave, a small voice called out from the back room.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

Andy toddled out, rubbing his sleepy eyes. The moment Nolan's gaze fell on the boy's face, his pupils shrank. The child looked almost exactly like him.

The memory of Yvonne's threats from five years ago flashed vividly in my mind. Instinctively, I pulled Andy behind my back, shielding him from Nolan's intense stare.

"The boy was born without a father, sir. He is very timid. Please don't frighten him."

It wasn't a lie. The Nolan I had once loved was long dead.

Nolan clearly did not believe me. His eyes searched my face, burning with a desperate curiosity.

I lowered my head, avoiding his gaze. Seeing my reflection in the dark glass of the counter, I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. I had a completely different face now. There was no way he could recognize me.

But Andy was a different story.

Ignoring my protest, Nolan knelt in front of the boy, gently taking his small hand. His voice trembled with an urgency he couldn't hide. "How old are you, little guy?"

I quickly pulled my son back, offering a polite, practiced smile to mask my rising panic. "He is the child of my late husband. My husband had terrible luck, passing away just days after the boy was born."

Nolan froze. The light in his eyes flickered, caught between devastating disappointment and lingering doubt.

Before he could press further, the shop door chimed.

"Nolan, what is taking you so long?"

Yvonne stepped into the shop, sliding her hand intimately through Nolan's arm. But the moment her eyes drifted to my face, her expression hardened.

Unlike Nolan, Yvonne knew exactly what I looked like after the reconstructive surgery. Remembering the terrifying promises she had made to me five years ago, my heart skipped a beat.

Nolan didn't seem to notice her tension. He subtly took a half-step back, creating a polite distance between himself and me, though his eyes remained glued to Andy.

"The wind is strong outside," Nolan said softly to Yvonne. "Why didn't you wait in the car?"

"I was too impatient," she cooed, leaning closer to him. "I wanted to accompany you to see my sister. Even though today is the anniversary of her passing, it is also the final day of our five-year pact."

She looked up at him, her eyes bright and filled with tears, but I could hear the sharp, mocking triumph beneath her sweet tone.

"You promised me back then that once she was gone for five years, you would marry me. Surely you haven't forgotten? Besides, we have already been living as husband and wife for years."

She gently pressed her hand against her stomach, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"The entire high society of Port Vista is waiting for our wedding. Not to mention, the little one in my belly cannot wait much longer."

I felt a quiet jolt of surprise. Five years had passed, and they still hadn't married?

The air in the small shop grew suffocatingly still.

Only when Yvonne's smile began to fray did Nolan finally speak, his voice thick and raspy. "I haven't forgotten."

He pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and laid them on the counter. "My apologies. I lost my composure earlier. You may keep the change. Your bellflowers are beautiful."

He swallowed hard. "My... my late wife would have loved them."

With those words, he took the bouquet and guided Yvonne out of the shop.

My eyes drifted to his hand. When we used to walk together, he would always use his thumb to gently rub the back of my hand. It was a soft, comforting habit that used to make my heart race.

Nolan, do you share those same quiet habits with Yvonne now?

Just as the door swung open, Yvonne paused and looked back. She cast a chilling, warning glare in my direction, her eyes lingering with venom on Andy.

Once the door clicked shut, the shop returned to silence.

The strength drained from my legs, and I collapsed into my chair, pulling Andy tightly against my chest. Looking at the crisp bills on the counter, a bitter, hollow smile touched my lips.

I understood her warning perfectly. It was time for me to move to another city.

After putting Andy to bed, I sat in the dim light of the back room, my mind drifting to the events of six years ago.

Back then, I was the darling of Port Vista's high society. My parents adored me, allowing me to pursue my passion as a runway model. I lived for the bright lights of the stage, enjoying the confidence of a girl who had never known hardship.

My biggest worry in those days was deciding the size of the diamond for my engagement ring, or choosing which designer would craft my wedding gown.

Until the day my parents brought a thin, sun-baked girl into our living room, their eyes red with tears.

"Giselle, this is your sister. She is... our biological daughter."

I had immediately welcomed her, pulling her into my massive closet and offering her my most beautiful dresses. "Yvonne, we are sisters now. What is mine is yours."

I truly felt a sense of guilt, wanting to make up for the twenty years she had spent in poverty. I took her with me everywhere, sharing everything I owned.

But I never realized that my generous promise would become the curse that stripped me of my life.

With Yvonne's return, the arranged marriage between our family and Nolan's faced a major obstacle. Nolan's grandfather visited our estate, his tone unyielding. "The future daughter of our family must be the true, biological heiress of your estate."

My parents remained silent. They loved me, but when balanced against the survival of our massive family empire, an adopted daughter simply carried no weight.

That night, I locked myself in my bedroom and cried.

Suddenly, there was a soft tap against my window. Nolan was standing in the garden below, his white shirt stained with dirt, his face bright with youthful determination.

"Giselle, don't be afraid."

He climbed up to the balcony, holding me so tightly it felt as though he wanted to press me into his very bones, gently kissing the tears from my cheeks. "I don't care about their alliances. Even if I have to forfeit my inheritance, you are the only woman I will ever marry."

The night breeze had been cold, but his promise had been incredibly warm.

With my family's wealth, Yvonne quickly shed her awkwardness, growing more beautiful by the day. And gradually, the way Nolan looked at her began to change.

One afternoon, as I was showing Yvonne a new skincare routine, Nolan had watched from the doorway, offering a casual remark. "Don't overwhelm her with all that makeup, Giselle. She looks quite charming just the way she is."

We all froze, the air turning awkward.

That was only the beginning.

Nolan had always been fiercely protective of his personal space. Once, when I accidentally used his coffee mug, he hadn't gotten angry, but he never touched that mug again. Yet during a movie night with Yvonne, when she complained of being thirsty, she grabbed his soda and took a sip. He simply took the cup back and continued drinking from it without a second thought.

In the past, he wouldn't even eat fruit unless I sliced it and fed it to him myself. But during a family dinner, he quietly put on gloves, peeling shrimp and placing them in Yvonne's bowl.

Meeting my stunned gaze, he quickly looked away, offering a low explanation. "Yvonne had a difficult life before she came back. She has never even tasted fresh seafood. I am just looking out for her."

"Giselle, you have always been a generous, kind girl. Surely you aren't going to be jealous of your own sister?"

His words felt like a heavy stone, crushing whatever right I had to feel hurt.

I kept forcing myself to believe him, telling myself he was only acting out of pity. Until the day I cut my modeling trip short to surprise him for his birthday.

The moment I pushed open his front door, I found a trail of clothes scattered from the foyer to the bedroom.

His designer shirt, which I had bought for him.

Her silk slip, which she had admired during our shopping trip and he had paid for.

My mind went entirely blank. I walked toward the bedroom, and every last bit of my self-delusion was shattered by the sight of their tangled bodies on the bed.

That afternoon, I lost my mind, smashing every object in the bedroom.

But Nolan didn't show the panic or remorse I had expected. Instead, his eyes held a flicker of irritation at being interrupted.

"Giselle, just be sensible for once and try to understand my position."

"Do you have any idea how much pressure our families are putting on us? If I give Yvonne a title, all our problems disappear."

"But you are the only one I truly love. Once we are married, we can still be together just like before. Isn't that enough?"

I refused to accept his terms, causing a massive scene and taking the matter directly to my parents, foolishly believing they would stand up for me.

But my father simply delivered a heavy slap across my face in front of all the household staff.

"Screaming like a common street harlot over a man? Is this how we raised you?"

"Yvonne is the rightful bride of his family. As her older sister, you should be stepping aside, not trying to ruin her happiness."

To teach me a lesson, Nolan and my parents agreed to lock me away in a remote villa in the suburbs.

The weight of their betrayal kept me awake night after night. I began to lose my grip on reality, wondering if I really did owe Yvonne everything. I had lived her comfortable life for twenty years, so perhaps returning Nolan to her was simply balanced justice.

One evening, they arrived at the villa.

From my locked room, I was forced to listen to them together through the thin wall. During the night, Yvonne accidentally knocked over a scented candle. By the time I realized what was happening, the room was already filled with thick, suffocating smoke.

With his clothes in disarray, Nolan cradled a terrified Yvonne in his arms and rushed out of the burning building.

I was left behind in the flames. No one had realized I was still inside.

By the time the firefighters pulled me out, my face was entirely destroyed, and my vocal cords were severely damaged by the smoke.

When I woke up, I was lying in a private sanitarium. My head was wrapped in thick bandages, and the doctors prepared me for extensive reconstructive surgery.

Before I was taken to the operating room, I heard Yvonne instructing the surgeon. She told him there was no need to preserve my original features, suggesting they make me look as plain as possible.

The brilliant, beautiful Giselle was reduced to a faceless ghost.

I could no longer model, and I could barely care for myself. My career, my love, and my future had been systematically erased.

On the day the bandages were removed, it took me thirty minutes to find the courage to look in the mirror. Fortunately, the surgeon had been kind, refusing her cruel instructions and leaving me with a simple, ordinary face.

My parents, terrified I would cause more trouble, confiscated all my electronic devices and left me with an old flip phone that could barely access basic web pages.

Even then, a foolish part of me believed Nolan would search for me. We had grown up together, sharing over a decade of memories. He knew I was in that villa.

Every day, despite the pain in my scarred fingers, I searched his name.

Nolan. Giselle. Fire. Missing.

On the first day, there was nothing.

On the fifth day, only stock updates for his family's group.

On the tenth day, still nothing.

Finally, after two weeks, his name appeared across every major entertainment site.

The alliance of two great families. Nolan purchases a flawless pink diamond for his fiance, Yvonne, as their wedding date approaches.

The photos showed Nolan in a tailored suit, looking down at Yvonne with a tender expression, a massive diamond gleaming on her ring finger.

My hand shook, and the cheap phone slipped from my fingers, shattering against the linoleum floor. The last spark of hope in my heart went out.

That same month, I discovered I was pregnant.

Yvonne arrived at the sanitarium the moment she received the medical report. She looked down at me with absolute victory.

"Giselle, Nolan is marrying me next month."

"From the moment we told him you died in the fire to the day he agreed to marry me, it only took him two weeks."

She let out a soft laugh. "Your ten years together couldn't even stand against my two weeks."

She tossed a document renouncing my inheritance and a falsified death certificate onto my lap.

"Sign these, take your bastard child, and disappear forever. Don't try any tricks. Making a real death certificate for you would be incredibly easy."

I felt no anger, only a hollow silence. I took the pen and signed my name.

On that day, the old Giselle truly died in the ashes of that fire.

A torrential rain began to beat against the shop windows. Andy was sleeping deeply in my arms.

Just as I laid him down on the small cot in the back room, my phone rang. It was the landlord.

"I am canceling your lease. I will return your deposit, but you need to pack your things and leave tonight."

I froze. "We have a signed contract. How can you simply throw us out? It is pouring outside. Where am I supposed to take a five-year-old child?"

"Someone purchased the entire building for ten times its value," the landlord explained, his voice defensive. "They specifically demanded that you be evicted immediately. There is nothing I can do."

He hung up.

A cold dread settled over me. Yvonne's retaliation was swifter and more ruthless than I had imagined.

"Andy, wake up, sweetheart. We have to go..."

I walked into the back room, and the air left my lungs. The cot was empty. The window was wide open, letting the cold rain spray onto the floor.

My son was gone.

I bolted toward the front door, ready to scream for help, but the door swung open and Yvonne stepped inside, flanked by several heavy-set bodyguards.

She tossed one of Andy's small sneakers onto the floor, wiping her hands with a look of disgust.

Panic turned into pure rage. I lunged at her, but the guards quickly pinned me to the floor, forcing my face against the cold tiles.

"Where is my son? He is only a baby! If you have a problem, take it out on me!"

Yvonne smiled, pulling out her phone and tapping a video.

On the screen, Andy was locked in the back seat of a car, sobbing hysterically and banging his small fists against the rain-streaked window.

My heart broke. Tears mingled with the dirt on my face.

He was the child I had nearly died to bring into this world. I had endured the agony of a back-alley clinic, biting my lip until it bled, just to hear his first cry. I had named him Christian, hiding a small piece of his father's name in his own, a final, secret connection to the man I used to love.

And now, he was being tormented because of me.

I stopped struggling, letting my body go limp under the guard's grip.

"I will leave," I rasped, my voice raw and broken. "I promise I will never return to Port Vista. Just give me my son."

I looked up at her, offering the words I knew she wanted to hear.

"Yvonne, I am a dead woman. My face is ruined, my body is out of shape. Even if you stripped me bare and threw me in front of Nolan, he wouldn't look at me twice. I will not get in your way."

I pressed my forehead against her shoes, begging for the life of my child.

Yvonne watched my humiliation with a satisfied smile. "Is that so? Then why don't you listen to how happy we are without you?"

She dialed Nolan's number and put it on speaker.

"Yvonne? Are you home yet?" Nolan's voice sounded distracted over the line. "I am still wrapping up some business, but I will be home soon. Stay safe."

"I am fine, darling," Yvonne cooed, her eyes locked onto me. "The baby just kicked. We both miss you so much."

Listening to their exchange, I felt nothing. My heart had been hollowed out long ago.

But neither of us had noticed the sound of heavy rain over Nolan's receiver, or the slight tremor in his voice.

Once the call ended, Yvonne raised her high heel and stamped it down hard onto my hand.

A sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm. I bit my lip, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a scream.

"That's better. This is exactly where you belong, Giselle. You owe me so much more than this."

Before she could say another word, the glass door was suddenly shattered.