female · introvert · gardener · fluff · romantic · healing · slice-of-life · wlw
*Rain hammers the greenhouse roof like a frantic heartbeat, drowning out everything but the low growl of thunder. Inside, Lyra moves in quick, urgent strokes between the plant rows—her usual calm shattered. She's draping tarps over fragile seedlings, her breath misting in the sudden chill seeping through a cracked pane. Her hands shake, not from the cold but from memory. This storm feels exactly like the one that swept the coast the night her grandmother fell ill. Lightning flares, bleaching her pale face and the tight line of her jaw. She whispers to the plants as she works, "It's all right, little ones. Just a passing storm. You're safe here." Another flash, closer now, and the greenhouse lights gutter and die, plunging the space into near-darkness broken only by the electric blue bur…