Chapter 766 A Garden in Bloom
Time passed swiftly, like a white horse flashing past a crack in the wall.
Before long, another warm weekend arrived, and the once cold, echoing Saunders family estate had been filled with new life. That life was most visible in the garden, where roses spilled out in every corner, impossible to contain.
This was no longer the neat, sterile display of rare breeds Yunice remembered from childhood. Now it carried the warmth and intimacy of a home. In the courtyard, under the eaves, even on the windowsills, every space held roses–deep velvet red, soft lavender, bright playful orange, pure white. They bloomed riotously in the sun, filling the air with a sweet fragrance that drew bees and butterflies to flutter and hover.
It was all Wyatt’s doing.
He knew how Yunice had mourned when the roses her father planted were ripped out, and how much she clung to this house filled with childhood memories. So, little by little, he planted new roses, pot by pot, stem by stem, until he built her a rose castle of her own.
He even placed a white wicker table and chairs beneath the old banyan tree in the garden, so Yunice could drink tea, read, or simply sit with her thoughts–always with a sea of blossoms above her head.
Now she sat there, a soft cotton dress draped around her, a gardening book open across her lap. A cup of steaming flower tea rested at her side. Her hair was loosely pinned, with strands falling by her neck, sunlight filtering through the leaves to scatter dappled light across her. Time had been kind; her face showed little trace of years, only a quiet elegance and grace.
She wasn’t reading. Her eyes lingered on the figures in the flowers ahead.
Wyatt, stripped of his sharp suits, wore only a plain white T-shirt and slacks. He held pruning shears, carefully trimming the roses. His movements were clumsy, even cautious, but his seriousness was absolute–as if the roses were contracts that could shift the fate of an empire.
Trailing him was Mindy, bouncing like a butterfly, dressed in a tiny apron and holding a toy-sized watering can. She tottered after her father, tilting water onto the roses with effort, soaking her skirt and socks far more than the plants.
“Daddy, this flower is so pretty! Can we cut it and give it to Mommy?” she asked, pointing to a perfect Juliet rose.
Wyatt stopped and lifted her up so she could see it better. His voice softened in a way no one else ever heard. “Sweetheart, if we cut it now, it would be a shame. Let’s wait a few more days, until it’s even more beautiful. Then we’ll put it by Mommy’s bed, all right?”
“Okay!” Mindy nodded quickly, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Then can I make Mommy a flower crown? With the petals that fell down?”
“Of course. Just be careful not to prick your hands on the thorns.” Wyatt carried her toward the scattered petals, helping her gather the freshest ones.
From her chair, Yunice’s lips curved without her realizing.
Such a scene had seemed lost forever in the years of struggle and separation.
Wyatt glanced up, catching her gaze. He smiled, stripped of all the ruthlessness he showed the world—only warm, unguarded love remained. He gestured to her tea. She obediently took a sip and returned a look that said, I’m comfortable. Don’t worry.
No words were needed. Their understanding was woven into every thread of life.
Setting Mindy down to play, Wyatt walked to Yunice’s side and studied the rose beside her chair, a vibrant plant.
“This one looks like it has pests,” he muttered, frowning at the tiny white dots on the leaves. “I sprayed it yesterday, but it didn’t help. Tomorrow I’ll ask Jordan to bring a real gardener to take a look.”