Forbidden Flowers

Chapter 4: Back to the Greenhouse

By: GenreGypsy

Molly paused at the door, her hand hovering over the latch. Her breath hitched slightly as she gathered the nerve to step inside. What would she even say? Would Pomona be angry? Hurt? Confused? The knot in her stomach tightened. It had been weeks since she'd run away, leaving nothing but questions in her wake. Avoiding Pomona hadn't made it any easier, though.

If she wanted to make things right—or at least face the mess she'd made—she had to begin here.

With a shaky breath, Molly pushed the door open.

The familiar scent of damp earth and fresh greenery washed over her. The greenhouse was exactly as she remembered it—warm, peaceful, almost indifferent to the chaos going on inside her. Rows of plants stood tall, their leaves glistening in the muted sunlight that filtered through the glass walls. The quiet was comforting, but it didn't ease the nervous energy buzzing under her skin.

Her eyes scanned the room, half hoping Pomona wouldn't be there. Part of her wanted to turn back and leave before the confrontation even began. She could still feel the weight of that kiss hanging over her, still taste the guilt and confusion it had left behind.

But then her eyes caught movement—Pomona, standing near the back of the greenhouse, hunched over a set of potted plants. Molly froze, her pulse quickening. She hadn't prepared for this moment. There was no plan, no perfect apology or explanation rehearsed in her mind. She was here, vulnerable and exposed, and Pomona hadn't even seen her yet.

Molly's heart pounded as she stepped further inside, the door creaking shut behind her. The sound echoed in the stillness, drawing Pomona's attention. Slowly, Pomona straightened, wiping her hands on her apron before turning around.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Molly felt her chest tighten as she tried to read Pomona's expression. It wasn't anger, exactly—though Pomona's face was hard to read, as always. Instead, there was a kind of quiet surprise in her eyes, softened by something Molly couldn't quite place.

"Molly," Pomona said, her voice calm, though there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "You came back."

Molly swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over her. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed hearing Pomona's voice, the steady, grounding presence that had become such a comfort in the weeks they'd spent together. But now, standing here, she wasn't sure if that comfort was still welcome.

"I..." Molly's voice faltered, barely a whisper as she struggled to find the right words. "I should've come back sooner. I'm sorry."

Pomona didn't respond immediately. She wiped her hands again, her gaze never leaving Molly's. There was a pause, long enough that Molly wondered if Pomona was trying to piece together what to say next.

"You don't have to apologize," Pomona finally said, her tone steady, but there was a tension underneath it. "You were... dealing with things."

Molly shook her head, her heart pounding in her chest. "I ran," she said quietly, forcing herself to look at Pomona. "I didn't know what to do, and I ran."

Pomona's face softened slightly, but her expression remained careful, guarded. "Why did you come back?"

Molly opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. What could she say? She wasn't sure why she'd come back—was it to apologize for the kiss? To explain the feelings she couldn't untangle? Or was it simply because she couldn't stay away any longer? She had been running from so much—Arthur's memory, her grief, her growing feelings for Pomona—and none of it had made anything clearer.

"I couldn't... avoid you forever," Molly said, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't want to. I just... didn't know how to face you after what happened."