The sale had been bittersweet. That shop had been my baby, my first real accomplishment after college. I’d started it with a small inheritance from my grandmother and built it into something the whole community treasured. But after a decade and a half of early mornings at the flower market, endless wedding consultations, and the constant worry about seasonal fluctuations, I was ready for a change.

The money from the sale sat in my savings account like a promise of freedom. Not a fortune, but enough to take my time figuring out what came next. Maybe I’d travel. Maybe I’d go back to school. Maybe I’d start something entirely new. For the first time in my adult life, I