Mira stood in the garden, staring at the flowers for a while before her gaze fell on the Senerp flower. A slow, painful smile tugged at her lips, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She stood there, unmoving, lost in her thoughts, unaware of how much ti had passed. The drizzle began to fall, soft raindrops pattering on her wavy curls, slowly undoing the care she’d put into her hair. Each drop seed to blur the colors of the garden around her, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere.
She wondered, fleetingly, if the rain was mocking her, and she smiled bitterly at the thought. Hours must have passed, yet she remained rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on the Senerp flower. The flower’s petals, usually vibrant, were now weighed down by the rain, opening and closing with the rhythm of the droplets. Mira watched its subtle dance, feeling a strange comfort in its resilience. For a brief mont, it felt as though she’d forgotten her troubles, if only for a while.
"Miss Mira, please co inside. You will catch a cold," Nana called out, her voice filled with concern as the rain began to fall harder. The raindrops were now heavier, drumming steadily on the garden’s stone paths and creating small puddles around Mira’s feet.
Mira turned to her, worry flickering in her eyes. "Is this flower safe?" she asked, her gaze shifting back to the Senerp flower. She noticed how the heavy raindrops had slowed its movents, no longer opening and closing as it had before. The once delicate petals were now drooping, weighed down by the relentless rain.
Nana’s eyes widened in surprise at Mira’s question. She couldn’t believe that, with everything going on, Mira was focused on the flower. Nana knew Mira’s concern was misplaced. There were far more pressing matters to worry about—Mira was standing in the pouring rain, her clothes clinging to her body, and was going to catch a cold at this rate.
Before Nana could say anything, Mira asked, "How about the gardener? Where is she?"
"Miss Mira..." Nana began, her voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. "You need to co inside. She’s already taken shelter. It’s not safe for you out here."
Before Nana could try to convince her otherwise,Mira bent down to lift the silver vase holding the Senerp flower. It was heavy, but its weight was nothing compared to the pain she carried within her.
Nana rushed forward, ready to help, but Mira spoke, her voice low and steady, barely audible beneath the falling rain. The rain felt like it was trying to knock so sense into her, though she doubted that was even possible. Still, that was the strange sensation she felt.
Just as Nana was about to take another step, Mira’s voice cut through the harsh rain. "You’ll catch a cold, Nana. Go inside."
Nana began to shiver, her body trembling visibly in the cold rain. Mira, noticing this, spoke louder this ti, her voice firm yet filled with concern.
"Please, go inside. You’re shivering. I don’t want you to get sick."
It was then that Mira noticed sothing else—a cold, intimidating aura slowly surrounding them. The air felt heavier, and an eerie chill crept into her bones. The usual warmth of the rain seed to dissipate, replaced by an unsettling coldness. No one needed to tell her who it was. The presence was unmistakable.
Was that why Nana was trembling? Not from the cold, but from fear?
Zamian stood under the rain, his wet hair plastered against his forehead, and his rolled-up sleeves revealed forearms slick with rain. His soaked white shirt clung to his chest, outlining his strong fra. In that mont, he looked almost otherworldly, like a god of rain, with an intimidating presence that filled the air. The rain seed to part around him, adding to his aura of authority.
He stared down at Mira, his cold eyes piercing through her, and when he finally spoke, his voice was chilling. "No."
But before he could say more, he turned toward Nana, his gaze even darker. The air seed to still around them, and the tension grew unbearable. The soft rustling of the leaves and the patter of rain beca a distant murmur in the heavy silence.
Nana’s feet trembled in fear as she lowered her head, struggling to find her voice. "I... I..." she stamred, but the words refused to co. Her body was now trembling uncontrollably, both from the cold and the overwhelming fear.
"Leave," Zamian commanded, his voice as cold as the rain that continued to soak her. The chill in his words only added to the cold she was already feeling, both from his presence and the downpour. It was unbearable. Bowing her head, she left quickly, her heart pounding.
Zamian then turned to Mira, his sharp gaze taking in the way her dress clung to her figure, evidence of how long she had been standing in the rain. Without a word, he walked over to her and effortlessly took the heavy vase from her hands. Mira’s eyes remained fixed on the flower, lost in thought, as Zamian carried it to a covered area, shielding it from the harsh rain.
He wondered what was so special about the flower that captivated her so much, but he kept his curiosity at bay. The flower was now nestled safely under the cover, the rain no longer falling directly on it. Turning back to her, his voice took on a rare note of concern. "Do you want to catch a cold? Don’t you know you haven’t fully recovered?"
He tried not to believe she was punishing herself, though the thought gnawed at him. Her continued fixation on the flower seed like a form of self-inflicted penance, and it troubled him deeply.
Mira looked up at him, her voice soft, laced with worry.
"Don’t fire her..."
Zamian stilled, his expression unreadable as he spoke. "Mira, speak to . If you have anything to say, say it. Stop punishing yourself."
Mira stared at him for a long mont, her eyes hollow, as though his words had dissolved into the rain.
"Promise ," she whispered, waiting for a while before she continued, as if she hadn’t heard what he had just said.
"Promise you won’t fire her," Mira whispered.
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