She Rejected the Alpha and Became Her Own Moon Chapter 11

She Rejected the Alpha and Became Her Own Moon Chapter 11

Ethan sat in the flower shop that whole afternoon. 

Aurora was busy greeting customers, wrapping flowers, and sorting the new stock, and she didn’t say much to him, but she didn’t send him away either. 

He just sat in the corner and watched her quietly. 

He watched her smile as she handed a small child a tiny jasmine bloom, watched her earnestly explain to a customer how to care for their flowers, watched her crouch on the floor sorting the buckets, the light from the window softening the line of her profile. 

This was an Aurora he’d never seen, vivid and 

bright, an Aurora truly living for herself. 

Aurora didn’t come over until dusk. 

When the rain had stopped and the shop had emptied of customers, she sat down across from him and asked softly, “Mr. Blackwood, was there something you came for today?” 

Ethan lifted his head, looked deep into her eyes, and said it word by word with utter seriousness. 

“Aurora, I was wrong.” 

“I was a fool back then. I couldn’t see my own 

heart clearly, and I failed the five years you gave 

me.” 

“Iris is gone. Can we start over?” 

“I’ll treat you right from now on and make up everything I owe you, little by little.” 

He’d expected to be nervous saying all this, but once it was out, he was strangely calm instead. 

He’d braced himself for a rejection, and yet a faint, foolish hope still lingered at the bottom of his 

heart. 

Aurora heard him out, then only shook her head 

gently and lifted her cup for a sip. 

The tea was clear and sweet, like the life she led 

now. 

“Ethan.” For the first time, she said his name 

outright, her voice light but carrying an unshakable, 

firmness. “It’s too late.” 

“When I first got here, it was hard too.” 

“The first time I bought stock I got cheated, and 

most of the seedlings died on me.” 

“During the rainy season the house leaked, and I got up in the middle of the night to catch the water, three full buckets of it.” 

“Last year in the hurricane, the trellis in the yard 

got knocked over, and I held it up alone until dawn until my hands were raw.” 

I smiled, no grievance in her eyes, only release. 

“Back then I’d think now and then how nice it 

would be if you were there.” 

“But then I found that even without you, I could 

manage just fine.” 

“I fixed the leaking roof myself, I landed a 

long–term deal with the flower market myself, and I built the shop up myself.” 

“In those five years I was bonded to you, the first thing I did every morning was wonder what you’d 

want to eat that day, whether you’d come home for 

dinner, whether your shirts were pressed smooth.” 

“I turned myself into an extension of you, until I’d 

nearly forgotten what I liked and what I wanted.” 

“But here it’s different.” 

“I grow the flowers I love, I make the sweets I love, 

and every morning I wake up feeling there’s 

something to look forward to.” 

“Ethan, I’m doing well now, better than at any time. 

before.” 

She looked at him, her gaze clear and open. “I don’t hate you anymore. I really don’t.” 

“All of it, the good and the bad, is behind me now.” 

“Let’s part on good terms and not contact each other again. Let’s each just be well.” 

Ethan’s heart sank bit by bit, all the way to the cold floor of the water. 

He knew she meant every word, that she wasn’t sulking and wasn’t playing hard to get, that she truly didn’t need him and truly didn’t want to turn 

back. 

He was about to say something more when footsteps sounded at the door, and a man in a light gray shirt pushed it open and came in, a 

paper book bag in hand, smiling at Aurora. 

“Aurora, that flower guide you said you wanted to read last time, I brought it for you. It happens to 

have the write–up on the hydrangea variety you were looking for.”