Chapter 47
1417 Words
✨Soft Things That Stay.✨
Flora Pov
Flora woke that morning without the familiar knot in her chest.
It startled her at first—the absence of it. She lay still beneath the sheets, listening, waiting for the panic to rush in late the way it sometimes did. Waiting for her thoughts to begin apologizing for existing.
Nothing came.
The light filtering through the curtains was gentle, the kind that didn’t demand anything of her. The room smelled faintly of clean linen and the city beyond the windows hummed without menace. She pressed her palm to her chest, just to be sure her heart was still there, still steady.
I’m okay, she thought, and the idea didn’t feel like a lie.
By the time she dressed, carefully smoothing her skirt, she realized something else had changed. She wasn’t whispering apologies to the mirror. She wasn’t rehearsing what not to say. She simply brushed her hair, tied it back, and left the room as she was.
Downstairs, Leila and Mrs. Darven were already waiting.
Leila—bright, sharp-eyed, endlessly warm—grinned when she saw Flora. “There she is. I was worried you’d vanish on us.”
Flora smiled back, easily. “I don’t think I disappear anymore.”
Mrs. Darven paused mid-sip of her coffee and looked at Flora fully, as if seeing her anew. There was a softness there, but also something strong. Measured.
“I’m glad,” she said. “You shouldn’t.”
They went out together, the three of them, and for the first time Flora didn’t feel like she was trailing behind someone else’s life. She walked between them, listening, laughing when Leila teased her brother, warming when Mrs. Darven—LeAnn, as she insisted Flora call her—told stories about Nasir as a boy.
“You can call me Mom,” LeAnn said casually over lunch, stirring her soup like she hadn’t just changed Flora’s entire world.
Flora froze, spoon halfway to her mouth.
“Oh— I— I don’t want to—” she began, old habits trying to claw back in.
LeAnn reached across the table and touched her wrist. Firm. Kind. Unyielding. “It’s not an obligation. It’s an invitation.”
Flora swallowed. “Mom,” she tried, barely louder than a breath.
LeAnn smiled like she’d been waiting years for that sound.
Lunch stretched lazily. They talked about small things—food, weather, Leila’s work, a movie Flora wanted to see. No one asked her to explain herself. No one pried. And in that space, something inside her loosened.
Shopping followed, unplanned and light. Shoes she didn’t need. A scarf she loved just because it was soft. Flora touched fabrics without fear now, letting herself linger, letting herself choose.
Then Leila stopped in front of a boutique window.
“Oh,” she said brightly. “This.”
Flora followed her gaze and promptly choked on air.
Lace. Silk. Mannequins arranged with confidence Flora had never possessed.
“I— I don’t think—” she started.
LeAnn tilted her head, amused. “You’re allowed to blush, dear. Not faint.”
Flora’s face burned. “I don’t wear… those.”
Leila laughed. “No one is born knowing how to wear lace. It’s learned.”
Inside, Flora hovered like she might be arrested. She picked up a piece of lingerie between two fingers as if it might bite.
“This has… strings,” she whispered.
“They’re decorative,” Leila said solemnly. “Mostly.”
Flora stared at a particularly daring piece. “This isn’t clothing. This is a suggestion.”
LeAnn laughed openly, the sound warm and unembarrassed. “Confidence is learned, Flora. And you don’t have to buy anything. Just look.”
She did look. And to her surprise, she didn’t feel shame—only curiosity. Possibility.
She left the store flushed, laughing, lighter than she’d arrived.
When she returned home later that afternoon, tired in the best way, she opened the door—
—and froze.
There, in the middle of the living room, sat a tiny puppy. All paws and soft fur and impossibly large eyes.
It tilted its head.
Flora dropped her bag.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Nasir stood nearby, watching her carefully. “Too much?”
The puppy yipped and stumbled toward her.
Flora sank to her knees, hands trembling—not with fear, but awe. The puppy climbed into her lap immediately, as if it had always known her.
“It’s… real,” she said, laughing through tears she hadn’t expected. “You’re real.”
Nasir crouched beside her. “I thought you might like something that stays.”
She stayed up half the night with the puppy—playing, naming it, letting it curl against her chest as if it belonged there. She talked to it softly, told it secrets she hadn’t told anyone else.
For the first time, she didn’t feel like a guest in her own life.
She felt chosen.
And when she finally fell asleep, puppy tucked under her chin, she didn’t dream of running.
She dreamed of staying.
The next day belonged entirely to Paw.
Flora woke to a warm, wiggling weight on her chest and a wet nose pressed beneath her chin. Paw’s tail thumped like it had somewhere important to be, and she laughed—soft at first, then louder when he pounced clumsily on her hair as if it were an enemy.
“All right,” she murmured, sleepy and smiling. “I’m awake. You win.”
By midmorning, Paw had already declared war on her slippers, her shoelaces, and a very innocent pillow. Flora followed him around the house in socks, breathless with laughter, forgetting time existed at all.
Nasir’s man—quiet, respectful, pretending very hard not to smile—arrived to take her shopping.
“For the dog,” he clarified.
“For Paw,” Flora corrected proudly.
The pet store was overwhelming in the best way. Tiny sweaters. Toys that squeaked. Beds shaped like clouds. Flora knelt in the aisle holding up two collars, whispering to Paw like he had an opinion.
“This one says handsome,” she told him seriously. “But this one says trouble.”
Paw licked her nose in response.
“That settles it,” she said. “Both.”
She bought more than she meant to. A soft bed. A ridiculous amount of toys. Tiny bowls. Treats. A little jacket that made Paw look deeply offended but unbearably cute.
Back home, the day blurred into play. Paw chased everything that moved. Flora let him nap on her stomach, brushed his fur with her fingers, talked to him like he was a person who understood her heart.
She forgot to check the time.
Forgot to listen for Nasir.
So when he finally came home that evening, jacket still on, tie loosened, he stopped just inside the doorway and stared.
Flora was on the floor.
Paw was sprawled across her chest like a king.
She didn’t look up.
Nasir cleared his throat.
Nothing.
He stepped closer. “Flora.”
She waved him off absently. “Shh. He’s attacking my hand.”
Paw growled ferociously at her fingers.
Nasir stared. “He’s winning.”
“Yes,” she said proudly. “He’s very strong.”
Jealousy hit him fast and sharp—and completely unreasonably.
“I leave for one day,” Nasir said, arms crossing, “and I’ve been replaced.”
Flora finally looked up, eyes bright, hair a mess, joy all over her face. “Oh. You’re home.”
You’re home. Like an afterthought.
Nasir scoffed. “That’s it? No greeting?”
She smiled sweetly. “You didn’t bring treats.”
Paw barked.
Nasir narrowed his eyes at the dog. “He’s mocking me.”
Flora laughed, full and teasing. “You should’ve thought of that before you brought competition into the house.”
Nasir crouched beside them, reaching for her. Paw immediately shoved himself between their faces.
Nasir froze. “…Did he just block me?”
“Yes,” Flora said solemnly. “He’s protective.”
Nasir looked at her, then at the dog. “I’m offended.”
She leaned forward and kissed Nasir’s cheek quickly, playful. “Don’t be. You’re still my favorite.”
Paw barked again.
Nasir sighed. “I’ve been demoted.”
Flora grinned, eyes shining. “Just for today.”
And for the first time, Nasir didn’t mind losing.
Not when Flora looked that happy.
- Writer
