The morning after the garden show, I woke to a stillness that felt heavier than usual. The fabric bags rested against the wall where I had dropped them the night before. The faint smell of moss and flowers clung to them, drifting across the room when I passed by. I had not yet unpacked. A part of me wanted to keep the garden close, to stretch it a little longer before the city swallowed it whole.

The boutique was closed for the day. Aisha had urged me to take time for myself, though I knew she ...