The Faded Bouquet
The rain lashed against the high, arched windows of the Blackwood Conservatory, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to synchronize with the thudding of Elias’s heart. He stood in the center of the greenhouse, the air thick and heavy with the scent of wet loam and dying orchids, his hands trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer, vibrating intensity of the moment. Before him, perched upon a...
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