23. White peony | Shame

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Sitting on a bench, he stared at a peony in the garden outside the patisserie. The petals were slowly wilting, folding in on themselves.

He felt just like that flower, once lush, now fragile and out of control. Her hands trembled slightly, the same trembling that had begun to affect her work. Baking cakes, a passion that had always accompanied him, had become a torture.

A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the diagnosis he had received.

Uncertainty consumed him.

How could he continue to work... in this condition? Had his life really come to an end?

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