In the Garden of Us

Prologue: The Withering Garden

The wind howled through the small garden behind the house, rattling the chimes by the back door. Kevin stood at the edge of the herb patch, staring at the drooping basil leaves. It was unseasonably cold, and the once-vibrant greens seemed to wilt under the chill. He brushed his hand against a rosemary sprig, its fragrance faint but lingering.

The garden had always been a symbol of life in their home-a place of growth and connection. It was where they had planted Mia's first flowers when she was five, where she'd laughed as she stomped in the mud. Now, it felt abandoned, a reflection of something Kevin couldn't put into words.

Inside, Dave stirred a pot of soup. The rhythmic clink of the spoon filled the silence. He glanced toward the hallway, where Mia's door remained closed.

"She hasn't eaten today," Dave said softly.

Kevin nodded. "She'll come out when she's ready."

But he wasn't sure if he believed that anymore. Mia's laughter, once the soundtrack of their lives, had been replaced by silence. The vibrant force she had always been seemed to have dimmed.

That night, a muffled sob broke the quiet. Kevin and Dave rushed to Mia's room.

They found her on the floor, clutching a photograph of her and Dmitri, tears streaming down her face. "He's gone," she choked out. "And I don't know how to do this anymore."

Dave knelt beside her. "You don't have to do this alone. We're here."

Kevin crouched beside her. "You're stronger than you think. We'll remind you every day until you believe it."

As the months passed, Mia's health continued to decline. The garden, once their sanctuary, became a place Kevin avoided. But as the first frost settled, he found himself kneeling in the dirt, searching for hope.

For in the quiet of the garden, as in their lives, there was a promise: even the most withered plants could bloom again.