Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 68: Chapter 68
You are reading Dahlia and the Garden of Light, Chapter 68: Chapter 68. Read more chapters of Dahlia and the Garden of Light.
Edge of the Playground – Dusk Deepening
Dahlia stood beneath a rust-streaked monkey bar frame, her eyes on the cracked concrete where Orchid’s small feet had stood. The vines beneath her had stopped moving. They pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat dulled by sadness.
“I scared her,” she whispered.
Markus stepped beside her, the red hood still clutched in one hand. “You didn’t mean to.”
“She looked at me like I was a storm,” Dahlia murmured. “And maybe I am. Too much light. Too many petals. I tried to give her something soft… but I think I only brought weight.”
Markus didn’t answer right away.
“She’s young,” he said finally. “And the world made her afraid of glowing things. That’s not your fault.”
Dahlia turned away, the wind stirring her coat. “Send her somewhere safe. Somewhere the flowers won’t frighten her.”
Markus nodded. “I already spoke to Lina.”
He looked back to the hilltop where Lina sat with Orchid, wrapping her in a blanket made from her own coat.
“They’ll go to the island. Mira will meet them on the coast,” he said. “Orchid deserves a place to just… be. To chase butterflies, to touch moss, to learn the names of vines without fearing what they mean.”
“She deserves a childhood,” Dahlia whispered. “Something I lost. Something she still has.”
“She’ll learn about you there,” Markus said softly. “When she’s ready. In your garden. Among your flowers.”
Dahlia nodded once, but didn’t turn around.
Nearby – At the Broken Swing
Orchid sat on Lina’s lap, curled in the folds of the red cloak. Her arms were around a stuffed rabbit—a little singed, but clearly beloved.
Derek sat cross-legged in front of her, watching her with quiet interest.
“Did you know the vines sing?” he asked gently.
Orchid blinked at him.
“They don’t have mouths,” she said seriously.
“They don’t need them,” he grinned. “They hum when they’re happy. They curl when they’re shy. And if you fall asleep under the right flower, it tells you stories in your dreams.”
Orchid tilted her head, intrigued despite herself.
“I’ve lived on the island” Derek went on. “It’s full of secrets. Not bad ones. Good ones. Like trees with heart-shaped leaves. Fish that light up in the lagoon. And there’s a hut that sings when it rains.”
Orchid’s eyes widened slightly. “A hut that sings?”
“Mmhmm.” He leaned closer. “And Mira my mother—she’s scary at first. But only in a sword-mom kind of way. She makes soup that smells like stars.”
Orchid blinked. “Stars don’t have smells.”
“That’s what you think,” Derek grinned. “You haven’t tried my mom's cooking.”
Orchid giggled faintly. The tension in her small shoulders softened. She clutched her rabbit tighter.
“Do they have swings?” she asked.
“Two. And I can build a third.”
“Can I bring Marshmallow?”
“Marshmallow is required,” Derek said seriously, glancing at the stuffed rabbit.
Orchid looked over her shoulder at Lina, who gave her an encouraging nod.
Then Orchid turned her gaze toward the edge of the playground.
Dahlia was still there, facing away, her hands clasped together like she was holding onto something only she could see.
“Is she really my sister?” Orchid asked.
Derek’s smile softened. “She’d give anything to be.”
“Even her glow?”
“Especially that.”
Orchid looked down at Marshmallow, then up at the darkening sky.
“…I think I want to go to the island now.”
Lina kissed her forehead. “Then we’ll go together.”
Later – At the Van
Lina packed what little they had. Orchid climbed into the back seat, watching Dahlia from behind the dusty window. She didn’t wave. But she didn’t turn away either.
Derek walked up beside Dahlia as the engine started.
“She asked if you’ll be there someday,” he said.
Dahlia finally looked at him.
“And what did you say?”
“I said the garden already misses you. And it’ll tell her that every day.”
Dahlia blinked rapidly. “Take care of her, Derek.”
He placed a hand over hers. “I will.”
As the Van Pulled Away
The vines curled in the dust behind it—gentle, slow, like fingers reaching out with longing.
Dahlia stood rooted beneath the swing set Markus just behind her, watching until they disappeared.
Behind her, the fireflies began to glow.
And high above, in the night that followed, the stars began whispering a name:
Orchid.
Dahlia stood beneath a rust-streaked monkey bar frame, her eyes on the cracked concrete where Orchid’s small feet had stood. The vines beneath her had stopped moving. They pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat dulled by sadness.
“I scared her,” she whispered.
Markus stepped beside her, the red hood still clutched in one hand. “You didn’t mean to.”
“She looked at me like I was a storm,” Dahlia murmured. “And maybe I am. Too much light. Too many petals. I tried to give her something soft… but I think I only brought weight.”
Markus didn’t answer right away.
“She’s young,” he said finally. “And the world made her afraid of glowing things. That’s not your fault.”
Dahlia turned away, the wind stirring her coat. “Send her somewhere safe. Somewhere the flowers won’t frighten her.”
Markus nodded. “I already spoke to Lina.”
He looked back to the hilltop where Lina sat with Orchid, wrapping her in a blanket made from her own coat.
“They’ll go to the island. Mira will meet them on the coast,” he said. “Orchid deserves a place to just… be. To chase butterflies, to touch moss, to learn the names of vines without fearing what they mean.”
“She deserves a childhood,” Dahlia whispered. “Something I lost. Something she still has.”
“She’ll learn about you there,” Markus said softly. “When she’s ready. In your garden. Among your flowers.”
Dahlia nodded once, but didn’t turn around.
Nearby – At the Broken Swing
Orchid sat on Lina’s lap, curled in the folds of the red cloak. Her arms were around a stuffed rabbit—a little singed, but clearly beloved.
Derek sat cross-legged in front of her, watching her with quiet interest.
“Did you know the vines sing?” he asked gently.
Orchid blinked at him.
“They don’t have mouths,” she said seriously.
“They don’t need them,” he grinned. “They hum when they’re happy. They curl when they’re shy. And if you fall asleep under the right flower, it tells you stories in your dreams.”
Orchid tilted her head, intrigued despite herself.
“I’ve lived on the island” Derek went on. “It’s full of secrets. Not bad ones. Good ones. Like trees with heart-shaped leaves. Fish that light up in the lagoon. And there’s a hut that sings when it rains.”
Orchid’s eyes widened slightly. “A hut that sings?”
“Mmhmm.” He leaned closer. “And Mira my mother—she’s scary at first. But only in a sword-mom kind of way. She makes soup that smells like stars.”
Orchid blinked. “Stars don’t have smells.”
“That’s what you think,” Derek grinned. “You haven’t tried my mom's cooking.”
Orchid giggled faintly. The tension in her small shoulders softened. She clutched her rabbit tighter.
“Do they have swings?” she asked.
“Two. And I can build a third.”
“Can I bring Marshmallow?”
“Marshmallow is required,” Derek said seriously, glancing at the stuffed rabbit.
Orchid looked over her shoulder at Lina, who gave her an encouraging nod.
Then Orchid turned her gaze toward the edge of the playground.
Dahlia was still there, facing away, her hands clasped together like she was holding onto something only she could see.
“Is she really my sister?” Orchid asked.
Derek’s smile softened. “She’d give anything to be.”
“Even her glow?”
“Especially that.”
Orchid looked down at Marshmallow, then up at the darkening sky.
“…I think I want to go to the island now.”
Lina kissed her forehead. “Then we’ll go together.”
Later – At the Van
Lina packed what little they had. Orchid climbed into the back seat, watching Dahlia from behind the dusty window. She didn’t wave. But she didn’t turn away either.
Derek walked up beside Dahlia as the engine started.
“She asked if you’ll be there someday,” he said.
Dahlia finally looked at him.
“And what did you say?”
“I said the garden already misses you. And it’ll tell her that every day.”
Dahlia blinked rapidly. “Take care of her, Derek.”
He placed a hand over hers. “I will.”
As the Van Pulled Away
The vines curled in the dust behind it—gentle, slow, like fingers reaching out with longing.
Dahlia stood rooted beneath the swing set Markus just behind her, watching until they disappeared.
Behind her, the fireflies began to glow.
And high above, in the night that followed, the stars began whispering a name:
Orchid.
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 68. Continue reading Chapter 69 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.