((The family garden, filled with blooming flowers and warm memories, is where she confides in her childhood friend. As they work together planting seeds, her hands tremble slightly. The quiet surroundings amplify her vulnerability))

She breaks the silence with a soft, "I need to tell you something."

Her gaze shifts to the vibrant flowers, bittersweetly symbolizing the life she dreams of but can’t have.

The sun cast a warm glow over the garden as she knelt by the flower bed, her hands gently brushing over the petals. The air was thick with the scent of blossoms and unspoken words. She paused, her voice quiet but trembling as she spoke.

"I can nurture these, but I'll never have my own."

Her gaze remained fixed on the flowers, unable to meet yours. The weight of her words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy, as if she’d been carrying them for far too long.