Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

A gust of wind blew across the rooftop, stirring ash and sirens. Dahlia didn’t move.
Markus shifted closer, not enough to crowd, just enough to say: I’m still here.
“I’m not used to anyone seeing me,” she murmured. “Not all of me.”
He gave a dry smile. “Try being loud, opinionated, and allergic to every emotion. You’ll scare people off faster.”
Dahlia chuckled despite herself. “You’re not that bad.”
“Give me time.”
Down below, the makeshift aid camp bustled. A child cried out; someone responded with a lullaby. The air carried the scent of burnt plastic, antiseptic, and something faintly blooming — lavender?
Dahlia exhaled. “I should check the west quadrant. Some of the volunteers said a new group came in — mostly elderly.”
“I’ll go with you,” Markus said.
“I thought you hated walking.”
“I hate wasting time. Big difference.”
Street-Level Recovery
Amy was organizing supplies by flashlight in the back of a collapsed laundromat. The building had half-crumbled, and they had turned the rear storage room into a field dispensary.
Nina, a teen volunteer with a buzzcut and a massive backpack, poked her head in. “Hey, Boss Amy, we’re out of clean wraps.”
Amy blinked. “Again?”
“I’ll raid the bodega on 5th if you promise not to tattle.”
Amy handed her a mask and a wink. “Take Benji with you. He’s like a raccoon — he’ll find bandages in a locked safe.”
Benji, a wiry kid with mismatched shoes and endless energy, gave a dramatic bow. “Madame.”
They disappeared into the smoke.
Amy turned, finding Jack’s voice crackling through the old walkie-talkie.
“Status?”
“Still alive. Still dust-covered. Dahlia’s off saving someone again.”
“Figures. You eating?”
“Define eating. I chewed a protein bar that tastes like regret.”
Jack laughed. “I miss you.”
“I know. Me too.”
Her voice cracked just slightly, but she didn’t let it linger.
The New Boy — Jayden
In the west quadrant, Dahlia knelt beside an elderly man with a head wound.
But next to him was Jayden — eleven years old, with one sock, scraped knees, and a fierce grip on a cracked Rubik’s cube.
He hadn’t spoken since they pulled him from the rubble two days earlier.
Dahlia tried again.
“You like puzzles?”
Jayden stared.
“I used to cheat with mine,” she whispered. “Peel off the stickers and rearrange them.”
Markus raised an eyebrow nearby. “That’s unforgivable.”
Jayden snorted. Barely.
Dahlia smiled gently. “Wanna help me? I’m terrible at organization. These pills keep going in the wrong bag.”
Jayden hesitated. Then crawled forward and started sorting — red labels here, blue labels there.
Later, as Dahlia tucked a sunflower petal into a cracked IV line to stabilize a fevered woman, Jayden silently handed her a water bottle.
“I’ll guard it,” he said, voice small but steady.
Reunion and Reckoning
That night, as aid flooded in from national forces and the hospital reopened, the crew finally had a moment to breathe.
In a school gym turned shelter, volunteers ate canned beans and told war stories.
Amy sat between Dahlia and Markus, her fingers interlaced with Jack’s through a gap in the cots.
Across from them, a nurse named Cynthia rubbed her temple. “I swear, if one more guy with a sprained ankle says ‘it’s just a scratch,’ I will smack them with a crutch.”
Dahlia laughed. “You’re my favorite person today.”
Markus added, “That’s high praise. She only gives that to Amy and dogs.”
“I am basically a loyal dog,” Jack muttered, mock offended.
Laughter bubbled up — short, tired, but real.
Jayden appeared beside Dahlia with a clean cloth. “You forgot your head wrap.”
She blinked at him. “Thank you, guardian.”
He nodded solemnly.
Amy watched all of this, eyes soft. “We leave soon.”
Dahlia nodded. “But this place won’t leave me.”
One Last Rooftop — The Farewell
On the final morning, they gathered again on the rooftop.
Smoke still lingered on the horizon, but so did sunlight.
Jayden stood beside Dahlia, holding her hand. Markus was nearby, arms crossed, quiet.
Amy and Jack leaned against the rail, watching ambulances file through the street like ants.
“Where to next?” Markus asked.
Dahlia hesitated. “Home, first. Then maybe Cairo. There’s unrest near the waterlines.”
He nodded slowly.
“Don’t disappear this time,” he said quietly.
“I won’t,” she promised. “I’ll write.”
He smirked. “That’s old-fashioned.”
“So am I.”
Jayden turned to Amy. “Will she be okay?”
Amy ruffled his hair. “She always is. Even when she isn’t.”
And then, like all nomads with hearts too big for one place, they left — not with fanfare, but with small waves and tighter hugs than they meant to give.
Letter Home – From Dahlia
To: Anderson Family Compound
Subject: “Bloom Report – New York”
Dear Family,
I’m safe. We’re all safe. But New York... it changed me.
We held hands with grief, carried strangers on our backs, and bled hope into cracked sidewalks. And somehow, in all the rubble, I found people worth fighting for.
Markus Hale is one of them. I think you’d like him, Dad. He’s got your eyes when he’s angry and Christian’s bossy streak.
Amy saved more lives than I can count. And Jack? Jack radioed us every night. Steady as a lighthouse.
I buried another seed before I left — on a rooftop near 6th and Broadway. I don’t know what will grow there. But maybe, someday, I’ll go back and see.
Give William a kiss on the head for me. Tell Theo I can still out-spar him. And someone please check Eliot’s cooking — I think he burned another stovetop.
Love always,
Dahlia
P.S. I miss the quiet. But not more than I miss you.