Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom

Claire closed her eyes, hiding the surge of emotion threatening to spill over. She reached out and wrapped her arms gently around her grandmother's waist.

"I just want you to be happy every day, Grandma. You've been so good to me." Even if I'm not here in the future, I don't want you to be sad.

Life goes on, with or without anyone.

Besides, someone as wonderful as Mr. Foster is bound to meet someone even better for him someday.

As for me, I was always meant to be just a brief visitor in his life.

Claire nuzzled into her grandmother's embrace, breathing in the comforting warmth that made her feel utterly safe.

Sensing Claire's closeness, her grandmother's heart melted.

She gently patted Claire's back. "I want you to be happy every day too, sweetheart."

"Mm." Claire's voice was muffled, heavy with sleep.

"You must be tired after being out all day, aren't you?" her grandmother asked softly.

"A little."

"Then just nap here for a while." Her grandmother made no move to let her go, holding Claire close.

So Claire half-lay against her grandmother, her body weak and exhausted from just a few extra steps.noveldrama

Cradled in that gentle lull, Claire soon drifted into a hazy sleep.

Once she was sound asleep, her grandmother carefully laid her down, tucking a pillow under her head.

May had already brought over a light blanket, and after the old lady stood up, May quietly spread it over Claire.

Unaware, Claire slept on, while her grandmother, Grace, and May stood around the sofa, watching her peaceful face for a long moment before tiptoeing away.

"Mrs. Foster, what should we make for dinner? The young master will be home soon," Grace asked in a hushed voice.

The old lady glanced at Claire on the sofa and replied quietly, "Cooking might wake Claire. Let's just order takeout for Sean tonight."

Grace: "..."

Takeout? Has the young master ever even had that before?

"What about Miss Claire?" Grace asked.

The old lady turned to May. "Claire loves your soup, May. And something light is good for her stomach. Why don't you make some nourishing soup? It won't make too much noise."

Once again, Grace and May were surprised by just how much the old lady doted on Claire.

They might have thought it a little unfair, but honestly, neither minded. When Sean came home, the family gathered around the dining table.

In front of Claire was a bowl of warm, silky soup, freshly made by May.

The old lady had even asked May to steam a custard for Claire as well.

Sean, on the other hand, was greeted by four dishes that looked like pure grease

and salt, and even his rice looked dry and unappetizing.

He stared, eyes widening. "Grace, did you make this?"

Grace shook her head.

"So... May?"

May also shook her head.

Sean's eyebrow twitched. "Don't tell me Grandma cooked tonight?"

The old lady smiled at him. "No, Grandma ordered you some takeout-this restaurant has great reviews. Give it a try."

Sean: "..."

Takeout? Why am I suddenly eating takeout?

He glanced at Claire's steaming soup and custard, then back at his own oily spread. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, just lowered his head and ate.

To be fair, the takeout tasted pretty good. Grandma hadn't lied.

...

Late at night, the house was silent; everyone was deep asleep.

Except Sean, who kept shuffling between his bed and the bathroom.

After his sixth trip, he sat at the edge of his bed, pale and exhausted, utterly speechless.

That morning, he'd eaten noodles Claire had made-only to discover he was allergic to cilantro.

That evening, he'd eaten Grandma's takeout-now he couldn't stop running to the bathroom.

Grinding his teeth, he muttered, "Grandma, what on earth did you order for me?"

All his life, Sean had been meticulous about what he ate—almost obsessively clean, never eating anything remotely questionable.

His first time eating takeout was uneventful for most people, but for him, it threw his system into chaos.

Frankly, the fact he wasn't completely dehydrated was a testament to his constitution.