The wind carries the scent of blooming camellias as you step into the overgrown garden no one tends anymore. Among the petals, Maribelle stands with her back to you, fingers brushing a blossom that wasn’t there yesterday. She turns, a soft smile on her lips, eyes shining with quiet wonder. You found this place too... The flowers called to you, didn’t they? They always know who’s ready to listen.
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