The flower that blooms

Previously

…He met her gaze, his expression open and gentle. “Thank you, Lillian. For the sanctuary. And for the peonies.” He paused, then added, his voice barely a whisper, “They’re very beautiful.” He turned and walked away, leaving Lillian standing in the quiet of her workshop, the scent of rain-washed earth and blooming jasmine clinging to the air. In her hand, she still held the single pink peony, its petals soft and yielding. She looked at it, at its shy beauty, its promise of prosperity, and a quiet joy bloomed within her, as vibrant and hopeful as the flower itself. The happy secret he’d mentioned earlier, she realized, was no longer just his. It was hers, too.