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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Lilianna

I looked at the list before me, the computer open beside me as Julian and Nicolaus sat beside me. The other two had practice so it was just us this evening. We were going to make my social media account, something that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

"These usernames are actually beautiful," I murmured, scrolling through Mara's suggestions. Names like BloomingPages, QuietGrowth, WildflowerWords, and GardenOfPages caught my eye, each one somehow capturing different facets of who I was becoming.

"Any standing out to you?" Julian asked, leaning closer to see the screen. His proximity sent a flutter through my chest, his warmth and scent wrapping around me like a comfortable blanket.

"I think I like WildflowerWords," I admitted. "It feels... right. Like something growing in unexpected places."

Nicolaus nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It suits you. Wildflowers aren't cultivated or controlled—they emerge where they choose, when they choose."

The metaphor wasn't lost on me. I'd spent my entire life being carefully pruned and arranged according to my parents' vision. Now I was growing on my own terms, in my own direction.

"WildflowerWords it is," Julian said with a warm smile, helping me select the username on the account creation page. "Now for your profile. Mara suggested keeping it simple—perhaps a quote that resonates with you?"

I considered this, thinking about all the books I'd devoured since arriving here, all the conversations that had shifted my perspective on who I could be. A line from one of the poetry books I'd purchased yesterday came to mind.

"'She bloomed where she was planted, but dreamed of wild meadows,' " I said softly, the words feeling perfect for this moment.

Julian's eyes softened as he typed the quote into the bio section. "That's beautiful, Lilianna. And very fitting."

Nicolaus leaned forward slightly, his analytical gaze studying the screen. "For your first post, Mara suggested something simple. Perhaps a photo of your current read, or something from the garden that speaks to you?"

I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on the stack of books beside me—the novels and poetry collection from yesterday's shopping trip, along with the leather journal Nicolaus had chosen for me. I reached for the journal, tracing my fingers over its soft leather cover.

"This," I said, holding it up. "My first post should be this. It represents new beginnings, new thoughts."

Julian nodded approvingly. "Perfect. We could arrange it with one of the books open beside it, perhaps with a cup of tea?"

"And maybe one of Miles's flowers," I added, warming to the idea. "Something small and delicate."

Nicolaus stood without a word, disappearing from the room only to return minutes later with a small crystal vase containing a single perfect bloom—a pale blue forget-me-not nestled among sprigs of greenery.

"Miles wouldn't mind," he said simply, placing it on the table beside my journal.

My heart swelled at the thoughtful gesture. "It's perfect."

Julian helped me arrange everything—the journal slightly open to reveal blank pages waiting to be filled, the forget-me-not positioned just so, and a delicate teacup with steam still rising from its surface. He took several photos from different angles, then showed me the results.

"What do you think?" he asked, scrolling through the options.

I studied each image carefully, finally selecting one where the sunlight caught the edge of the journal, illuminating its pages with a soft golden glow. The forget-me-not was perfectly positioned, its tiny blue petals vibrant against the cream-colored pages.

"This one," I said decisively. "It feels... hopeful."

Julian nodded, his expression warm as he helped me upload the image. "What caption would you like to add?"

I thought for a moment, then typed: "First pages of a new chapter. It fits where I am in my life now.” I gave the two men a smile. They were a part of what changed my life and am forever grateful.

"Simple. Honest. I like it," Nicolaus nodded approvingly, a rare smile softening his usually serious expression. "It's perfect."

With a deep breath, I hit "share," sending my first social media post ever into the world. A small thrill ran through me as the upload completed—something that was uniquely mine, created and shared by my choice alone.

"And now we wait," Julian said, his hand coming to rest lightly on my shoulder. "Though with Mara promoting it through our official channels, I suspect you'll have followers rather quickly."

"Is that... good?" I asked, uncertain how to feel about strangers looking at glimpses of my life, even carefully curated ones.

"It's natural," Nicolaus replied, his analytical mind always cutting straight to the heart of things. "The public is curious about who we're courting. This gives them something genuine to connect with, without exposing you to scrutiny.”

I watched the post settle onto the screen, crisp and glowing beneath the soft light of the room. My photo. My words. My choice. A strange mix of pride and vulnerability bloomed in my chest.

Julian’s hand was still on my shoulder, his thumb drawing slow, grounding circles through the fabric of my cardigan. Nicolaus had returned to the armchair across from us, fingers steepled under his chin as he watched the screen update in real-time.

“You already have one hundred followers,” he said, tone unreadable but eyes sharp. “Two hundred.”

I blinked. “Already?”

Julian gave a small laugh under his breath. “Mara’s very good at what she does.”

It was surreal watching the numbers climb, little hearts and usernames fluttering into view with every refresh. I hadn’t expected this level of visibility so fast.

As if sensing the shift in my posture, Julian leaned down, speaking softly beside my ear. “Hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything more tonight. One post is enough.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to share,” I admitted, my voice quiet. “It’s just… all of this is so new. People seeing me. Having opinions.”

Nicolaus’s voice cut in gently. “You don’t owe anyone more than what you choose to give.

That’s the whole point of this— choice. Not obligation.

” I met his gaze, and something in it calmed the rising flutter in my chest. He always spoke with clarity, even if his tone could be a little cool.

But tonight, his words carried an extra softness. Understanding.

“I think that’s what scares me,” I murmured, tucking my knees beneath me on the couch. “I’ve never really had the freedom to decide what parts of myself I wanted to share. My parents always had a script. What to say. What to wear. How to act.”

Julian’s hand tightened slightly on my shoulder. “You’re not in their script anymore, Lilianna.”

“No,” I said quietly. “I’m writing my own.

” For a while, we sat there in companionable silence, the hum of the house gentle around us—the ticking clock on the mantel, the faint sound of wind stirring outside, the subtle clink of a teacup being set down.

Julian had poured a fresh cup for me without asking, the aroma of chamomile and honey filling the air.

“Do you want to check the comments?” he asked after a while, his tone neutral but supportive.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Just a few.” He clicked gently through the screen, and I braced myself for the worst—but what met me were words filled with kindness.

This is beautiful. Can’t wait to see more!

She already has a better aesthetic than most influencers.

WildflowerWords—whoever you are, I already love you.

That quote… that hit me in the chest.

The breath I’d been holding escaped in a slow exhale. My fingers curled tighter around my mug, the warmth anchoring me.

“These are… actually really sweet,” I whispered, surprised by the relief that flooded me.

“There are still kind people out there,” Julian said softly. “You just had to get away from the ones who told you otherwise.”

Nicolaus gave a quiet hum of agreement. “People gravitate to honesty. And that post was entirely you.” His words warmed me more than I expected.

Coming from him—a man who rarely gave unnecessary praise—it felt like a small badge of honor.

I could tell he was watching me closely, taking mental notes in the way he always did, reading me like an open file.

“You’re doing well, Lilianna,” he said finally. “And not just with this. With… everything.”

I blinked at him, startled by the gentleness beneath his words. “Thank you.”

Julian cleared his throat suddenly and rose from the couch, stretching his arms overhead. “I’ll go make something sweet. You deserve dessert after a day like today.”

“Dessert?” I asked, intrigued.

He grinned over his shoulder. “Before Chris left he made some cookies for us to have.

I smiled, warmth unfurling in my chest again. “You all are too good to me.”Julian gave me a warm smile before disappearing into the kitchen. I heard the soft clink of glass and the hum of the refrigerator door opening.

That left me with Nicolaus, who hadn’t moved from his seat. The silence between us was comfortable, not awkward, like a long exhale after a deep breath.

“You know,” I said softly, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve, “I never imagined something as simple as a social media account would make me feel so... seen.”

His gaze lifted from the screen to meet mine. “It’s not the account, Lilianna. It’s that you’re finally being seen for who you are. Not who you were told to be.”

That stuck with me. I let it settle deep in my bones.

Just then, Julian reappeared with a small plate of cookies, placing them between Nicolaus and me like a peace offering. “I’ll bring tea in a minute,” he said, already turning back toward the kitchen.

Nicolaus looked down at the cookies, then at me. Then he did something that surprised me. He smiled—not his usual restrained, analytical expression, but a genuine, almost boyish grin that transformed his face entirely.

"These are the almond ones," he said, reaching for a cookie with surprising eagerness. "Christopher always makes them when he knows I've had a long day."

I blinked, startled by this glimpse of a more relaxed Nicolaus. "You have a sweet tooth?"

"I have many secrets," he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he took a bite. "Some more surprising than others."

I reached for a cookie myself, finding it still slightly warm. The first bite melted on my tongue—buttery, with hints of almond and vanilla. "Oh, these are incredible."

"Christopher may act like a chaotic force of nature," Nicolaus said, selecting a second cookie with careful deliberation, "but he's actually a perfectionist when it comes to baking. He'll remake a batch three times if the texture isn't exactly right."

I smiled at the image of Christopher obsessing over cookie dough. "I'm starting to realize you all have hidden depths."

"Depths within depths," Nicolaus agreed, his blue eyes studying me with that familiar intensity. "Just like you."

Julian returned with fresh tea, settling back beside me on the couch.

The three of us fell into a comfortable rhythm—sharing cookies, sipping tea, and watching the sunset through the large windows.

My phone buzzed occasionally with notifications from my new account, but I found myself caring less about the numbers and more about the simple pleasure of being here, in this moment, with these two men who made me feel valued and understood.