She Rejected the Alpha and Became Her Own Moon Chapter 06

She Rejected the Alpha and Became Her Own Moon Chapter 06

The house wasn’t large. It had one bedroom, a small sitting room, and a cozy nook facing the 

street. 

The walls were damp in places with peeling paint, and the wooden floors creaked beneath every 

step. 

The first thing I did after putting down my suitcase was head to the hardware store for a bucket of 

latex paint. 

I spent the rest of the day rolling soft cream paint 

across every wall myself. 

Over the next three days, I threw myself into fixing 

up the house. 

I scrubbed dust from the windows, waxed the 

wooden floors until they shone, and built a wooden trellis in the yard using the exact same design as the one on the balcony of the Pack 

apartment. 

Only this time, I built it for myself. 

I went to the flower market and bought seedlings of jasmine, gardenias, hydrangeas, and 

magnolias. One by one, I planted them carefully in 

the flower bed outside. 

As I watered them, my fingertips brushed the damp soil, and suddenly my eyes burned. 

I’d grown plenty of flowers back at the Pack 

apartment, but Ethan had never spared them a 

second glance. 

He always dismissed them with the same words. 

“These plants are useless. They’re a waste of 

time.” 

After that, I only dared keep hardy pothos tucked 

away in corners where no one would notice them. 

Once the house was finally in order, I cleared out 

the little streetside nook and decided to turn it into 

a flower shop. 

I’ve loved flowers ever since I was little. I’d even 

secretly studied floral design once, but after I 

bonded with Ethan, I never touched it again. 

I was the Pack’s Luna. 

Studying herbs was acceptable. 

Learning management was acceptable. 

Even learning to cook was acceptable. 

But floral design? 

That was considered useless. 

I didn’t have much money, so I started small. 

I ordered modest batches of roses, chamomile, and baby’s breath. Alongside the flowers, I sold 

homemade lemon cookies and honey cake. 

I’d secretly taught myself both years ago from old recipes, but because Ethan didn’t like sweets, I’d 

never baked them even once. 

For the first couple of weeks after opening, hardly 

anyone came into the shop. 

Most of the people on the old street were locals 

with flower vendors they’d visited for years, so the 

new little shop simply went unnoticed. 

I wasn’t in a hurry. 

Every morning, I opened at seven, cared for each 

flower, then sat by the window reading or experimenting with new dessert recipes. 

Helena Henderson, who owned the thrift store 

next door, noticed how quiet I was. 

She often stopped by carrying a plate of fresh 

blueberry muffins, taught me bits of the local 

slang, and told me which market sold the freshest 

flowers and which shop carried the best flour. 

My first large order came when the local elementary school held its graduation ceremony. 

One of the parents came in and asked me to 

prepare bouquets for the graduates. 

I stayed up the entire night wrapping thirty small 

bouquets of chamomile and carnations. 

Each one was tied with a different–colored ribbon, 

and I tucked a small bag of my homemade honey cake into every bouquet. 

When the flowers were delivered, the customer 

was delighted. She said she’d never seen 

bouquets wrapped with such care. 

After that, she became a regular customer and recommended my shop to her neighbors and friends. 

Little by little, people around the neighborhood. began talking about Spring Blossom. 

They said the owner had a real gift for flowers, that every arrangement was beautiful, that I was gentle, and that even the little desserts I gave away tasted amazing. 

Spring Blossom. 

That was the name I’d chosen for my shop. 

Spring brings life back to everything. 

Even dead wood finds new life when spring 

returns. 

I hoped my own life would do the same. 

Day after day, my life became fuller. 

Every morning at five, I went to the flower market 

to choose fresh stock. Then I came back to trim 

the stems and arrange the displays. 

At noon, I made myself a simple salad. In the 

afternoons, I read books and experimented with 

new dessert recipes. 

After closing the shop at dusk, I walked along the 

river at the end of the lane. 

My skin gradually turned a little more golden. beneath the southern sun, and my wolf grew stronger with each passing day. 

Tiny cuts covered my hands from the flower stems, but I was happier than I’d ever been. 

The cautious woman who used to study 

everyone’s expression before speaking was slowly 

disappearing. 

Light had returned to my eyes. 

I was nothing like the woman who used to move 

so carefully and watch everyone’s expression for 

cues.