Chapter 68: In my defence... you started it

Clara followed the man toward the shaded corner of the garden, where rows of vegetables, herbs, and flowering plants grew in perfect harmony.

She looked around in amazement.

"You maintain all of this yourself?"

The man smiled as he crouched beside a rose bush.

"I do."

He gently pinched off a dried flower before dropping it into a small basket.

"Gardening keeps the mind quiet."

Clara tilted her head.

"I’ve always thought gardening was... well..."

She searched for the right word.

"...boring."

The man let out a hearty laugh.

"So does everyone who has never tried it."

He motioned for her to come closer.

"Tell me, Miss Hayes."

"If this dried flower remains attached to the plant, what do you think will happen?"

Clara looked at the wilted bloom.

"It’ll... stay ugly?"

He chuckled.

"True."

"But more importantly, the plant will continue sending its energy to something that can no longer bloom."

With practiced hands, he removed the dead flower.

"Once it’s gone..."

He pointed toward a tiny green bud hidden beneath the leaves.

"...the plant redirects its strength toward new life."

Clara stared at the tiny bud.

The gardener continued calmly.

"People aren’t much different."

"Many spend their lives holding onto guilt, regret, or painful memories."

"They nurture those memories every single day."

"So naturally..."

"They have no strength left to grow."

Clara smiled faintly.

"That’s... surprisingly profound for gardening."

The man laughed.

"I’ve had many conversations with flowers."

"They’re excellent listeners."

"They never interrupt."

Clara couldn’t help laughing.

"I should introduce you to my husband."

"He interrupts me before I even finish my sentence."

"Oh?"

The man raised an amused eyebrow.

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is."

She nodded dramatically.

"Sometimes I wonder if he secretly has subtitles for my thoughts."

The man laughed again.

"I doubt he’s that talented."

"You’d be surprised."

She muttered under her breath.

For a brief moment, silence settled between them.

Then the gardener spoke again.

"Regret is much like an overgrown weed."

"If you don’t remove it..."

"It slowly steals every bit of nourishment meant for your future."

His words were simple.

Gentle.

Yet they struck somewhere deep inside Clara.

Her smile slowly faded.

Almost instinctively...

A memory surfaced.

A cold hospital room.

The sharp smell of antiseptic.

The crushing weight of betrayal.

And then...

Blood.

So much blood.

Her trembling hands instinctively moved toward her stomach.

In her previous life...

She had made the decision herself.

She had chosen revenge over everything else.

Even...

Her unborn child.

Her fingers unconsciously curled into a fist.

If only I had endured a little longer...

If only I hadn’t been so blinded by hatred...

My baby...

A dull ache spread across her chest.

Even after being given a second chance at life...

That guilt had never disappeared.

It was the one wound time refused to heal.

The gardener noticed the sudden change in her expression.

He didn’t ask what was wrong.

Instead, he quietly poured two cups of tea.

Then, placing one before her, he said softly,

"The hardest person to forgive..."

"...is often ourselves."

Clara lowered her eyes to the steaming cup.

For the first time in a long while...

She found herself unable to smile.

"You have quite a way with words," Clara said with a genuine smile as they finished tending to the plants.

"I’ll remember what you said."

She brushed the soil off her hands before picking up the dessert boxes.

"But I should stop stealing your time. I’m actually here to meet your master."

The man’s smile remained warm.

"Of course."

He nodded politely.

"Please wait here for a moment."

"I’ll let my master know you’ve arrived."

"Thank you."

Clara smiled back, watching him disappear into the house.

Left alone, she looked around the peaceful garden.

Then at the neatly arranged desserts.

Then back at the flowers.

"...Gardening really isn’t that bad."

She chuckled to herself.

"Maybe someday I’ll drag Dominic here."

A mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Actually..."

"I won’t even have to drag him."

"I’ll just say, ’Come with me,’ and he’ll follow."

She folded her arms proudly.

"My husband has absolutely no backbone when it comes to me."

The thought alone made her laugh.

A few minutes later...

"Miss Hayes."

A familiar voice called out.

Clara turned around casually.

Then froze.

"...Huh?"

Standing before her was...

The gardener.

Except...

Gone were the gardening gloves and mud-stained clothes.

Instead, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his silver hair neatly combed back.

He looked refined.

Elegant.

And undeniably distinguished.

Clara blinked repeatedly.

Her brain refused to cooperate.

"M-Mr. Gardener?"

She pointed at him.

"You... you just said you were going to inform your master!"

The man smiled with the same gentle expression as before.

"I did."

Clara looked behind him.

"...So where is he?"

The man placed a hand over his chest and gave a slight, gentlemanly bow.

"I am Adrian Graham."

He smiled warmly.

"Welcome to my little world."

"..."

"..."

Clara stared at him in complete silence.

Then she slowly looked at the tiny row house.

Back at Adrian.

Then at the garden.

"..."

"So..."

She asked with absolute sincerity,

"...Who interviewed whom today?"

Adrian chuckled softly at Clara’s stunned expression before gesturing toward the wooden table beneath the old oak tree.

"Please, have a seat."

Still trying to process everything, Clara walked over and sat down across from him.

Adrian poured two cups of tea before speaking.

"I didn’t intend to deceive you, Miss Hayes."

He smiled apologetically.

"But I do have a habit of observing people before introducing myself."

He paused, gently placing a cup before her.

"When I decided to seek your help for the charity event, I needed to know what kind of person you truly were."

"The children attending that event are very precious to me."

"I couldn’t entrust them to someone based solely on reputation."

Clara quietly listened.

"So..." Adrian continued, "when you agreed to help without asking what you would gain in return..."

"I knew Logan hadn’t chosen the wrong person." His words were sincere.

Clara scratched her cheek awkwardly.

"That’s... unexpectedly flattering."

She took a sip of tea before slowly leaning across the table.

Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She glanced around dramatically to make sure no one was listening.

Then whispered,

"...Are you absolutely certain I’m not being fooled again?"

Adrian blinked.

"Because..."

She pointed toward the flower beds.

"...if this turns out to be another test..."

"I’ll have to apply everything you taught me five minutes ago."

Adrian looked at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Clara sighed dramatically.

"I’ll remove the weed."

"...Starting with you."

"..."

For a brief second... Adrian simply stared at her. Then he threw his head back and burst into hearty laughter.

"Hahaha!"

The laughter echoed throughout the quiet garden.

Clara blinked in surprise.

"...Was it really that funny?"

Still laughing, Adrian wiped the corner of his eye.

"It has been years...since someone threatened to weed me out of my own garden."

Clara coughed awkwardly.

"...In my defense...you started it."