Chapter 23: The Oregon Sanctuary

The bus ride to Oregon was long, winding through sleepy towns and forested hills that stretched endlessly beneath gray skies. Sera stared out the window, the orchid charm Lina had tied to her bag swinging gently with every bump in the road.

By the time she arrived in the small coastal town of Astora, rain was falling in soft sheets, mist curling over the rooftops. The air smelled of sea salt and pine, and Sera felt a strange mix of nervousness and purpose in her chest.

The sanctuary was exactly as Mira described—a once-thriving community house for LGBTQ+ youth that had been shut down during the pandemic and never reopened. It stood at the edge of a field, weathered but still strong. Vines had crept up the sides of the porch, and the sign—Havenlight—hung crooked on rusted nails.

Sera walked up the steps and unlocked the door with the key that had arrived in the mail days before. The hinges groaned as she stepped inside.

It smelled like dust and forgotten stories.

But she could already see what it could become.

She spent the next few days cleaning. Then painting. Then gathering what resources she could. She visited local nonprofits, told them about The Blooming House and Celeste's legacy, and slowly began recruiting help—volunteers, counselors, even a few teenagers who had heard about what she was trying to do.

One evening, while scrubbing the kitchen tiles, Sera got a message from Mira.

Greenhouse's first herb garden harvest today. Lina made lavender tea and read poetry to the kids. Everyone asked about you.

Sera smiled and messaged back, Tell them I'm growing something too.

But she missed Lina.

Nights in Oregon were colder. Lonelier.

One morning, a girl named Ivy showed up at the door. Seventeen. Kicked out by her parents. Angry and silent.

Sera welcomed her in, no questions asked.

Later that night, Ivy sat curled up on the couch, thumbing through a sketchbook. "You really built one of these before?" she asked.

"Yes," Sera replied. "In Elowen Ridge."

"You're not from here?"

"No. I came because there was work to do."

Ivy glanced up. "I think I want to help."

And just like that, Havenlight breathed again.

The next few weeks were a blur—fundraisers, building trust with the community, setting up bedrooms, painting murals with Ivy and other teens. Sera received letters from Lina almost daily—pressed flowers, poems, memories, wishes.

One night, after lights-out, Sera sat on the roof of Havenlight wrapped in a blanket. She called Lina.

"Hey," she whispered when she answered.

"Hey, wildflower," Lina said softly. "How's the new garden?"

"Growing. Slowly."

"And you?"

Sera closed her eyes. "Rooting deeper."

There was a pause. Then Lina asked, "When will you come home?"

"Soon," Sera promised. "But for now… I'm where I need to be."

They didn't need to say more. Love, like a bloom, sometimes opened quietly in the dark.