Anuli had always been a quiet village. Life moved at the pace of the sun, and change was a stranger rarely welcomed. But since the return of the garden's magic, something gentle had shifted.
Kaira noticed it first in the eyes of the children—wide with wonder, chasing butterflies made of light that appeared only at dawn.
She saw it in the teachers, who started weaving stories and music into lessons, inspired by Mama Ebele's return to storytelling.
She saw it in the art Jude had painted on the village square—murals of flying birds, golden seeds, and smiling faces with eyes that shone.
But most of all, she saw it in the people—how they began to greet each other with hope instead of habit.
One morning, as Kaira swept the front of her home, a knock came at the door. Emeka stepped in, holding a small wooden box, carved with delicate patterns that shimmered faintly.
"What's this?" Kaira asked.
"A gift," Emeka replied. "From the garden."
He opened it carefully. Inside were seven new seeds, each a different color, glowing softly.
Kaira gasped. "But I thought—"
"The garden only gave five at first," Emeka said, his voice reverent. "But now that it has bloomed, it's giving more. It's... trusting us."
They sat together on the doorstep, the box between them.
"Seven seeds," Kaira whispered. "Seven chances. But how do we know who they're meant for?"
Emeka smiled. "We listen."
That afternoon, they walked through the village—not planting, not rushing—but observing. Listening. Watching.
They saw a widow who hadn't smiled in months silently watering her late husband's flowerbed.
They saw a teenage girl who danced alone in the backyard, believing no one saw her.
They saw a carpenter repairing an old swing that no longer held his grown children.
Everywhere, dreams waited—small, quiet, nearly forgotten.
And Kaira understood: this wasn't just about reviving dreams. It was about recognizing them in places most had stopped looking.
The garden had returned. But more importantly…
It was growing roots in the hearts of the people.
And the seeds?
They would bloom when the time was right.