"Steemit Challenge s28wk3: When Hope Returns

Pixabay

Ronny watched Nina over the rim of his coffee cup. It wasn't just her laughter; it was the way she paused, as if weighing the soul of her words before speaking. For weeks on end, they worked side by side, silence between them comfortable and not weighted. The office hummed with mundane noise, but in his mind, Ronny was constantly measuring the distance between his past winter and this sudden, potential spring.

“You stare out of the window a lot,” Nina remarked one evening as they were packing up, her tone soft, laced with a curious edge.

Ronny blinked, caught. "Just checking the weather. I used to hate the rain. Now, I don't mind it."

"Storms clear the air," she said, leaning against her desk. "But they leave a mess, don't they?"

The melodrama of his past urged him to confess all-Sameera, the heartbreak, months spent staring at the ceiling. He smiled instead. “Only if you don’t know how to clean up.”

He felt that familiar tug of attachment. The gardener's promise had come true; the tree had bloomed, and here was Nina--the fruit of that hope. This must be the design. He invited her to the park the following Sunday, wanting to show her the tree that saved him.

They strolled down the gravel pathway, pink blossoms floating lazily around them like confetti. Ronny felt his heart hammering against his ribs. He was ready to let her in. He was ready for the "relationship" he swore he'd never have again.

"Nina," he said, stopping underneath the canopy of the resurrected tree. "I feel like I've been asleep a long time, and you're the first thing I've seen since waking up. I think. I think I could fall for you."

The wind rustled the branches. Nina didn't blush, didn't smile. Instead, a look of profound sadness washed over her face, shattering the moment.

“Ronny,” she whispered, “I’m not the spring. I’m the winter.”

He froze. "What?

"I have terminal cancer, Ronny. Stage four. I didn't join the firm to start a career. I just wanted to feel normal for a few months before…" Her voice tailed off, her gaze going to the vibrant pink flowers. "Before my leaves fall."

The ensuing silence was louder than any storm Ronny had ever known. A desire to run away, retreat into his dark room, and curse fate for this cruel trick surged violently within him. Hopelessness knocked on the door.

But then he looked at the tree.

It had bloomed knowing that winter would return again. It didn't bloom to last forever; it bloomed to defy the emptiness, even if just for a season.

Ronny breathed deep, the scent of wet soil and of life filling his nostrils. He didn't run. He didn't crumble.

He stepped forward and gently took her hand. "Then let me be your gardener," Ronny said with a steady, firm voice. "We'll just worry about this season. The rest doesn't matter." Nina squeezed his hand, and for the first time, Ronny realized that the point of the gardener's lesson wasn't the permanence of the flower, but the courage to bloom in the face of the inevitable. He wasn't falling in love to be saved; he was loving to save them both.

I invite @peacemike @okereblessing and @bossj23