Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 31: Chapter 31

It began with a knock.
Not at the front door — no one ever made it that far without the security wards flaring. No, this knock came at the iron gate that ringed the east side of the Anderson estate.
Dahlia was in the greenhouse with Amy and Christian when Theo’s voice crackled over the comms.
“We have a situation at the gate.”
By the time they arrived, Eliot was already there, arms folded. Antonio stood still as stone, his jaw clenched. Markus, silent, positioned himself behind Dahlia without a word — alert, protective, reading every movement like a soldier with instincts buried but not dulled.
She stood just outside the gate.
The woman.
Hair like Dahlia’s. Eyes the same shade of deep bronze. Clothes expensive but travel-worn. She looked out of place — not in a villainous way, but in a way that screamed disruption. Like a page torn out of a story no one had finished.
Her voice was soft, careful.
“I’m her mother.”
No one moved. For a long, drawn breath, the only sound was the wind threading through the trees.
Amy whispered, “Dahlia…?”
Dahlia didn’t answer. Her mouth had gone dry. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
“I gave birth to her,” the woman said. “And I’ve come to bring her home.”
Antonio stepped forward, voice low and steel-edged. “This is her home.”
The woman flinched — not from guilt, but from the years in between.
“She was taken from me.”
“She was dying,” William said, appearing behind them, walking with his cane. “You left her at a hospital and vanished.”
“I was scared. I didn’t know what she was — what she could do. I didn’t understand.”
Markus stepped slightly in front of Dahlia now. “And now you do?”
She looked at him, measuring. “I’ve had time to learn. To regret. I thought she was gone forever. Then I heard rumors. I followed whispers. I’m not here to hurt her.”
“You already did,” Christian muttered under his breath.
Eliot spoke next, cold but clear. “You should go.”
But Dahlia stepped forward.
Her voice trembled slightly, but it held.
“What do you want from me?”
The woman blinked. “I want to explain. I want to know you.”
“Why now?” Dahlia asked. “Because the world’s whispering my name? Because of what I can do?”
“No,” the woman said, too quickly. “Because I finally have the courage.”
Markus’s voice cut in, quiet but lethal. “Convenient timing.”
Amy reached for Dahlia’s hand. She took it.
“I’m not a weapon. I’m not your redemption arc,” Dahlia said.
“I never said—”
“You don’t get to say anything yet,” Antonio snapped, eyes burning.
But Dahlia held up a hand — calm, trembling, but hers.
“I’ll talk to her. Later. When I choose. On my terms. Not at the gate like a thief in daylight.”
There was silence.
And then, something deeper: a shift.
The woman nodded slowly, swallowing the tears in her throat. “I’ll wait. I’ll be nearby. I won’t come back unless you ask me to.”
She turned, disappeared down the road.
Only when the trees swallowed her up did anyone speak.
“She’s not gone for good,” Markus murmured, stepping back beside Dahlia.
“No,” Dahlia said. “But neither am I.”
Antonio moved toward her — slow, steady — and pulled her into a fierce, grounding hug.
“You don’t owe anyone your pain,” he said.
“I know.”
Markus stayed near as they walked back to the house. His voice was low. “If you want me to find out where she’s staying—”
“No,” Dahlia interrupted gently. “If she’s come to see me as I am, I won’t respond with fear.”
He studied her. “That takes guts.”
Dahlia looked out at the trees, where the shadows still moved. “No. That takes roots.”