The Neighbor

Chapter 36**

Her face lights up at the question, a spark of delight in her eyes that makes you smile. "That's a great question, baby." Wanda replies, her voice infused with enthusiasm. She guides you to a section with chrysanthemums and asters. "For fall, you want flowers that can handle the cooler temperatures. Mums and asters are perfect, they come in vibrant colors and can really brighten up the garden as other flowers begin to fade."

As she speaks, she takes your hand in hers, and together your fingers lightly run over the petals of a striking purple aster. She looks back at you, her eyes seeking yours, sharing a moment of silent connection over the simple beauty of the flower. Sensing a shift in your mood, she waits patiently, her gaze tender and understanding.

"Do you like planting in the fall more or in the spring?" you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft hum of the shop. Her eyes soften further, tender and loving, as she sees you trying to engage with her even though panic oozes out of you. Despite your efforts, your eyes betray the inner whirlwind of panic swirling within, and with every unexpected sound around you, she feels your grip tighten in her hand.

Wanda smiles reassuringly, squeezing your hand gently in response. "I love both," she admits. "Each season has its magic. Spring is about new beginnings, everything waking up. Fall, though... it's about preparation, about making things cozy and bright just when the world starts to turn grey. But if I had to choose, I think I love the fall more, there's something special about making our home feel warm and welcoming as the cold sets in."

She continues, her hand leaving yours momentarily to caress your cheek, while her other hand still holds the lilies she picked earlier. "I'm especially looking forward to this winter," she murmurs, her voice a soft, intimate thread between you.

"And why's that?" you ask softly, drawn into the warmth of her gaze and the sincerity of her smile.

"Because it will be our first together," she whispers. Wanda's words hangs in the air, a promise of shared warmth in the coming cold. Your heart swells with the anticipation of your first winter together, and without thinking, a smile spreads across your face. Wanda notices, her own smile mirroring yours, lighting up her features even more.

"There's that smile," she softly says, her voice warm with affection. She leans in close, the lilies cradled in one arm, and presses a loving, tender kiss to your lips. It's a gentle touch, but it carries the depth of her feelings, a soft seal over the promises made.

"Wanna keep looking at flowers, or are you tired, my love?" Wanda asks, her concern for your health very evident in her eyes.

"I want to keep looking with you," you reply. At your words, Wanda's smile brightens the room. She interlocks her fingers with yours, resuming your leisurely exploration through the flower shop with renewed enthusiasm.

Later, as you settle into the car, you notice that Wanda is steering away from the grocery store and towards home. "What are you doing, love?" you ask, a slight confusion coloring your tone. "Don't we need to do groceries?"

At the red light, Wanda turns to look at you, her eyes filled with a tender firmness. "I don't want you overdoing it today, baby," she says, her hand squeezing your thigh reassuringly. "You already had a hard day in PT."

"I'm okay, baby," you reassure her, squeezing her hand that rests on your thigh. "I want to help."

Her eyes search yours for a moment, gauging your determination. Finally, she nods, a soft smile returning to her face. "Alright," she concedes, "but we're taking it easy, okay? And the moment you feel tired, we're heading home."

Wanda turns the car towards the grocery store, her protective nature still evident, but also respecting your desire to contribute and stay active.

After the grocery store, finally arriving back at home, Wanda insists on carrying most of the groceries herself, allowing you to bring in just a single bag. This restriction makes you huff in frustration, the desire to contribute more tangibly gnawing at you.