CHAPTER 19
She Doesn't Forgive Easy
Helen
Two months passed.
Two months of silence from Helen. Two months of small, consistent gestures from Josh.
By the end of the second month, Helen's walls had cracks in them.
She found herself looking for him on the street.
Scanning faces in crowds, hoping to see his.
Checking her phone for messages she hadn't replied to.
Wondering what he was doing, if he was okay, if he still thought about her.
She missed him.
One rainy Tuesday, she was sitting in the courtyard garden. The same bench where Josh had told her he bought companies. The same fountain where she'd sat with her father as a child. The rain fell softly, pattering against the leaves, the stone, the surface of the fountain.
And then she saw him.
Josh was standing at the garden entrance. Soaked through — his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt clinging to his chest. He wasn't wearing a coat. He was holding a single sunflower.
He didn't step closer.
"Richard told me you were here," he said. His voice was rough. "I can leave if you want. Just say the word."
Helen didn't say anything.
"I just wanted you to see something." He held up the sunflower. "I grew this. In my apartment. There's a small balcony. I planted seeds two months ago, right after you left."
He smiled slightly, water dripping down his face.
"I've never grown anything before. Killed every plant I ever owned. But I read books. Watched videos. Learned. This is the first one that didn't die."
He looked back at her.
"I'm not trying to pressure you. I'm not trying to prove anything. I just wanted to show you that I'm learning. How to be patient. How to nurture something instead of destroying it. How to wait."
He set the sunflower down on the edge of the fountain, careful and gentle.
"I'll go now."
He turned to leave.
"Josh," Helen said.
He stopped.
"Wait."