Chapter Six: Flowers That Knew His Name
The knock on my dorm door came early.
Too early.
I was still half-asleep, wrapped in my blanket, my thoughts heavy with last night. Rowan's voice. His eyes. The way the car engine hummed while everything inside me stayed loud.
I opened the door to find Mr. Harris, the dorm security guard, standing there with a polite smile.
"Morning, Miss Grace," he said. "Delivery for you."
Behind him was a large bouquet of flowers, wrapped in soft cream paper. They were pale blue and white, delicate and unfamiliar. A faint, clean scent floated toward me.
"I… I didn't order anything," I said.
He chuckled. "No card. Just said to make sure they reached you safely."
Safely.
The word made my stomach twist.
He handed them to me carefully, as if they were fragile. "Have a good day."
I closed the door and leaned against it, staring at the flowers in my arms.
They were beautiful. Quietly beautiful. Not loud or dramatic—just calm, steady, intentional.
There was also a small box tied with a thin silver ribbon. Inside, I found a silk scarf. Deep blue. Soft as water. Something you'd wear on a cold night drive.
My heart began to beat faster.
Rowan.
But there was no note. No name. No explanation.
I placed the flowers on my desk, still unsure if I should smile or be afraid.
A knock came again, louder this time.
"Aira! Open up before I die of curiosity!"
Sophia.
I opened the door, and she burst in like sunlight, already talking.
"You will not believe the dream I had—"
Then she stopped.
Her eyes went straight to the flowers.
She went completely still.
"Oh," she said softly.
My chest tightened. "You recognize them?"
She walked closer, slowly, as if approaching something sacred. She didn't touch them. Just looked.
"Yes," she whispered. "I do."
Something in her voice made me nervous. "Sophia?"
She finally looked at me. Her teasing smile was gone.
"Those are Lyanna's flowers."
The name hit me strangely. "Lyanna?"
She nodded. "My sister."
I had never heard her say the word sister like that before.
"They were her favorite," Sophia continued. "Moon lilies and winter bells. She loved pale colors. Said they reminded her of quiet mornings."
My fingers curled into the fabric of the scarf. "She sounds… gentle."
"She was," Sophia said. "Very."
She sat on my bed, her movements slower now. "Rowan adored her."
I looked at her sharply. "Adored?"
Sophia let out a breath. "Loved. Deeply.
Completely. In a way that scared everyone."
My heart thudded. "As a brother?"
Sophia hesitated.
"No," she said honestly. "As his moon."
The room felt suddenly too small.
"They were inseparable," she continued. "Rowan was colder back then, but with her… he smiled. He listened. He was human."
"What happened to her?" I asked quietly.
Sophia's eyes lowered. "She died."
The word settled heavily between us.
"An illness," she added. "Long and cruel. Rowan never left her side. When she was gone… something in him broke."
I thought of his silence. His control. His anger.
"And now," Sophia said softly, gesturing to the flowers, "he sends these."
"You think they're from him?" I asked, though my heart already knew.
She gave me a small, sad smile. "No one else would."
"But why me?" My voice trembled. "Why send me her flowers?"
Sophia looked at me for a long moment.
"Because," she said slowly, "Rowan doesn't give pieces of Lyanna to anyone."
My throat tightened.
"He sees something in you," she added gently. Then, trying to lighten the mood, she nudged me. "Also, congratulations. You've officially entered the 'Rowan Royce emotional danger zone.'"
Despite everything, a small smile escaped me.
"Should I be worried?" I asked.
Sophia stood and wrapped her arms around me. "Terrified," she said softly. "But not alone."
I looked back at the flowers.
They didn't feel like a gift.
They felt like a memory.
And somehow, impossibly, like a beginning.
[HIS POV]♡
●Rowan
I didn't sleep.
I never do after nights like that.
The image of her stepping out of Julian
Thorne's car played on repeat in my head. Over and over. The way she looked
confused. Unprotected. Too trusting for a world that feeds on people like her.
I stood by the window as dawn broke, the city still quiet, and made the call.
"Moon lilies. Winter bells," I said. "Fresh. No card."
The man on the other end didn't ask questions. He never did.
When the call ended, I rested my forehead against the cold glass.
Lyanna loved those flowers.
She said they smelled like calm. Like the kind of peace you only notice when it's gone.
I hadn't bought them since her funeral.
I told myself this wasn't about Aira.
That it was instinct. Responsibility. A debt I couldn't explain.
But lies don't sit well in the dark.
Aira Grace didn't belong in my world. She was too quiet. Too soft. She looked at things like they still had the right to surprise her. That kind of innocence doesn't survive near men like me.
And yet—
She was already there.
I closed my eyes and saw her in the car last night. Angry. Shaking. Brave in a way she didn't even realize.
I can decide who drives me home.
She wasn't wrong.
But she didn't understand danger the way I did.
Julian Thorne saw opportunity. He always did. He would smile, offer comfort, wait. Men like him never rushed. They circled.
I would not let him circle her.
The scarf had been an impulse.
Deep blue. The color of late night skies. Something warm. Something protective.
Something that smelled like me.
I shouldn't have sent it.
That was the line.
But I crossed it anyway.
Lyanna's face came to me without warning. Pale. Smiling softly from a hospital bed.
"You don't have to save everyone, Row," she'd whispered. "Just the ones your heart refuses to let go of."
I hadn't saved her.
The weight of that failure never left my chest.
But this—
This was different.
Aira wasn't broken. She wasn't dying. She was just unaware.
And that made her dangerous to herself.
I straightened, pulling on my jacket.
She would wake to the flowers soon. She would question them. She would feel the pull and not understand why.
Good.
Confusion keeps people cautious.
I didn't want her running toward me.
I wanted her alert.
Still—
The thought of her touching those petals, breathing them in, made something tight loosen in my chest.
I checked my phone. No messages. Of course not.
She wouldn't reach out.
She was proud like that.
I respected it. Even as it frustrated me.
This wasn't romance.
This was warning. Claim. Memory.
And if Julian Thorne thought otherwise—
My jaw tightened.
He would learn.
I turned away from the window as the city fully woke, already planning my next move.
Because once a man like me notices someone like Aira Grace—
There is no unseeing her.
And I had no intention of letting the world take her apart while I stood by and watched.