Spring returned to Fernhollow, bringing with it a familiar softness in the wind and petals that floated like secrets through the air.
The peach tree Lena planted near the garden wall was in bloom.
She sat on the porch with her feet bare and a mug of tea in her hands, listening to the hum of bees and the sound of Ethan flipping pages from inside.
Their mornings had become a quiet routine: coffee, gardening, paperwork, translating calls, and sometimes just silence.
But it was the kind of silence that said everything.
Lena had turned down another TV offer.
The producers wanted to shoot a follow-up episode about her married life.
"I already lived that story," she told them gently. "It doesn't need retelling."
Instead, she'd started a small blog. Nothing flashy. Just pictures of her garden, short stories about village life, and the occasional musings about healing, love, and the strength it takes to walk away from a world that once sparkled.
It quickly found a following.
Not because she was famous.
But because she was honest.
Chloe visited every other weekend.
She brought pastries, business gossip, and wild stories about city life.
"You're becoming a bit of a hermit," she teased Lena.
"Maybe," Lena laughed. "But I'm the happiest hermit you know."
Chloe nodded. "You really are."
One evening, Ethan found her by the kitchen window, humming an old Velvet Bloom song under her breath while slicing strawberries.
He leaned on the doorframe and asked, "I would like to see you perform on stage again. I feel like I missed out on a lot."
She smiled softly.
"Really? You can just watch them on the internet."
"It would have been nice to see them live and up close."
"Huh... Are you getting tired of this version?" She quipped.
He walked over, kissed her temple.
"I like this version of you."
"Good," she replied. "Because she's not going anywhere."
Later that night, when the sky turned purple and the wind rustled the petals from the peach tree, Lena stepped outside and watched them fall.
She no longer ached for the stage or the applause.
She no longer needed someone else to define her worth.
She had her garden.
Her peace.
And someone who finally saw her, not as a dream, but as a woman made of thorns and bloom alike.
Lena Hart smiled.
Because even when the petals fall…
…what grows after is something far more lasting.
Side Stories will start on November 23, 2025