Chapter 23: Lilac Loneliness

Chapter 23: Lilac Loneliness

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the street outside Lila's shop. Inside, the light was softer, filtered through the petals of flowers that seemed to bask in the fading day. Lila stood behind the counter, absently running her fingers over a bundle of lilacs she had been arranging earlier. Their sweet, familiar fragrance tugged at her memories, stirring something deep inside her.

---

It had been a somber afternoon, years ago. A family gathering full of forced smiles and unspoken tensions. James had been at her side, his presence grounding her when everything around her felt too much to bear.

She had clung to his hand tightly as they stood in her grandmother's garden, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think I can do this."

James had turned to her, his expression steady and kind. "Yes, you can," he had said, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "And you're not alone, Lila. I'm right here."

He'd plucked a lilac bloom from a nearby bush and tucked it into her pocket, a small gesture that spoke volumes. His unwavering support had been her anchor that day and so many others.

---

Now, as she stared at the lilacs in her shop, the memory of his words echoed in her mind: You're not alone.

But she was alone. The shop was empty, the lilacs in her hands were just flowers, and James's absence was a hollow ache that never seemed to fade.

The bell above the door jingled, breaking her reverie. Lila looked up, expecting to see a customer, but her breath caught when she recognized the woman stepping inside.

It was Rachel.

Rachel, with her perfectly styled hair, her sharp features softened by a carefully curated smile. Rachel, who had once been James's girlfriend before Lila had ever come into the picture.

"Lila," Rachel said, her tone dripping with politeness that felt anything but sincere. "It's been a while."

Lila forced a tight smile. "Rachel. What brings you here?"

Rachel glanced around the shop, her eyes lingering on the flowers with faint disinterest. "I was passing by and thought I'd stop in. I heard about James... I'm so sorry for your loss."

The words, though well-meaning on the surface, felt like a dagger wrapped in silk. Lila's chest tightened, and she struggled to maintain her composure. "Thank you," she said, her voice clipped.

Rachel's gaze settled on a bouquet of lilacs on the counter. She picked one up, twirling it between her fingers. "Lilacs. They were always his favorite, weren't they? He used to bring them to me all the time when we were together."

Lila's stomach churned. She wanted to snatch the flower from Rachel's hand, but she took a steadying breath instead. "They're beautiful flowers," she said evenly, refusing to rise to the bait.

Rachel's smile widened slightly, as if sensing Lila's discomfort. "It's funny, isn't it? How life works out. I'm engaged now, by the way." She held out her hand, showing off a glittering diamond ring.

Lila's eyes flicked to the ring, her heart tightening with a mix of emotions she couldn't untangle. "Congratulations," she said, her tone as neutral as she could manage.

"Thank you," Rachel said, her voice light. "He's wonderful. So supportive. You know, the way James was."

That did it. Lila felt a flicker of anger spark in her chest, a defense mechanism against the hurt Rachel's words were clearly meant to inflict. She straightened her shoulders, meeting Rachel's gaze head-on. "James was supportive because that's who he was. He didn't have to try—it came naturally to him."

Rachel's smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly, her tone turning saccharine. "Of course. He was one of a kind."

Lila didn't respond. She didn't trust herself to say anything that wouldn't come out sharp and biting. Instead, she turned back to the lilacs, focusing on their delicate petals as if they could ground her.

"I should go," Rachel said after a moment, her voice airy. "I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. You know, pay my respects."

"Thank you," Lila said, her tone flat.

Rachel lingered for a moment, as if expecting something more, but when Lila didn't oblige, she finally turned and walked out of the shop.

As the door closed behind her, the tension in Lila's body broke. She sank onto a stool behind the counter, her hands trembling as she clutched the lilac bouquet.

---

The anger ebbed away quickly, replaced by a deep sadness. Rachel's visit had dredged up memories and feelings she had been trying to keep buried. James's absence felt sharper than ever, the weight of it pressing down on her chest.

She looked at the lilacs in her hands, their soft purple blooms a stark contrast to the storm inside her. They had always been a symbol of comfort, a reminder that she wasn't alone. But now, holding them felt like holding onto a ghost.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let them fall, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly in the empty shop. It wasn't just Rachel's words that had hurt—it was the reminder of everything she had lost.

The shop, the flowers, the memories—they were all tied to James, and without him, they felt hollow. She missed his steady presence, his unwavering support, his ability to make her feel like she could face anything.

She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, her breathing still unsteady. The shop was quiet, the only sound the faint rustling of the lilacs as she set them back on the counter.

For a long moment, Lila sat in silence, staring at the flowers. And then, slowly, she reached for one of the lilacs, tucking it into her pocket the way James had done all those years ago.

"You're not alone," she whispered, repeating his words to herself.

The ache in her chest didn't disappear, but it felt a little less suffocating. She closed up the shop, stepping out into the cool evening air. The sky was streaked with shades of purple and orange, the colors of twilight mirroring the lilacs she carried with her.

As she walked home, the memory of James's voice stayed with her, a quiet comfort in the darkness. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't entirely alone after all.