Chapter 22: The Rooftop Garden

Ren stumbled across the garden purely by accident. He hadn’t even known the building had a rooftop—let alone one hidden behind a weather-beaten metal door, tucked away from sight at the far end of a fire escape. The hinges groaned as he pushed it open, revealing a lush, overgrown space sprawling beneath the twilight sky.

It wasn’t what he expected.

Wild vines coiled along the railings, and faded brick planters overflowed with herbs and flowers that had clearly been left to grow on their own. In the center of the garden sat a cracked birdbath filled with rainwater, reflecting the warm, fading light of the setting sun.

Ren took a step inside, letting the door creak shut behind him. The air smelled of rosemary and lavender, carried by the light evening breeze. It was quiet here—different from the hum of the streets below. A kind of peace lingered between the tangled leaves, the way it does in places that have learned to exist without being noticed.

He wandered over to one of the planters, trailing his fingers through a patch of mint leaves. The scent clung to his skin, sharp and refreshing. Ren had no particular reason to stay, but something about the garden felt inviting, as if it welcomed his presence without asking anything of him.

He knelt beside a cluster of tiny white flowers blooming near the edge of the birdbath. Their petals trembled slightly in the breeze, delicate but persistent. Ren smiled softly to himself, admiring the way they thrived without needing attention—just quietly growing, unnoticed by anyone but themselves.

“You found it too, huh?”

Ren jumped at the voice, nearly knocking over the birdbath. He turned to see a girl standing near the entrance, her hands tucked into the pockets of her oversized jacket. Her black hair was tied loosely at the back of her neck, and she carried the easy kind of confidence that only comes from spending time in places most people overlook.

“Sorry,” she said with a grin. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ren straightened up, brushing his hands on his jeans. “It’s okay. I thought I was the only one up here.”

The girl shrugged, kicking a loose pebble across the rooftop. “Most people don’t know about this place. I found it a while ago.” She glanced around the garden fondly. “It’s kind of a nice spot to disappear for a bit.”

Ren smiled, feeling a flicker of understanding. “Yeah. It feels like... it’s been waiting for someone.”

The girl nodded. “Exactly. Like it doesn’t mind if you show up or not, but it’s nice when you do.”

She stepped further into the garden, crouching beside one of the planters and brushing her fingers along the petals of a pale blue flower. “I come here when I need a break from everything,” she said. “It’s easier to think when things don’t feel so... noisy.”

Ren tilted his head. “What do you think about?”

The girl gave him a thoughtful look, as if deciding whether to answer. “The usual stuff, I guess,” she said eventually. “What I want to do next. What I should’ve done differently. Whether I’ll ever figure out how not to screw things up.”

She glanced at Ren with a wry smile. “You know. Just regular, existential crisis stuff.”

Ren laughed quietly, surprised by how much her words resonated with him. “Yeah. I think I know that feeling.”

The girl sat cross-legged on the ground, patting the space beside her. “Want to sit? It’s better when you don’t try to stand through it.”

Ren joined her, the cool stone pressing against his legs. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the soft rustle of leaves filling the space between them.

“Do you come here often?” Ren asked, resting his arms on his knees.

The girl shrugged. “Whenever life feels too big to deal with. This place makes it smaller somehow.” She pulled a tiny notebook from her jacket pocket, flipping through its worn pages. “I like writing things down when I’m here. It’s easier to make sense of stuff when it’s on paper.”

Ren glanced at her notebook, catching glimpses of half-finished poems and messy sketches tucked between scribbled thoughts. “What kind of stuff do you write?”

She smiled, closing the notebook gently. “Mostly things I don’t say out loud. It’s like giving them a place to live, you know? So they don’t clutter up my head.”

Ren nodded slowly. “That makes sense. I think I could use something like that.”

The girl leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the sky. “It’s not about writing the perfect thing, though. It’s just... getting it out. You’d be surprised how light you feel after.”

Ren considered that, the idea settling into his mind like a small seed waiting to grow. He didn’t need perfect words—just honest ones. Maybe that was enough.

The sun slipped lower on the horizon, casting a soft amber glow over the garden. Shadows stretched lazily along the rooftop, and the air cooled, brushing against their skin like a whispered promise of rain.

“You know,” the girl said after a while, “it’s okay not to have everything figured out right now.”

Ren glanced at her, surprised by the simplicity of her words.

“I mean it,” she added with a grin. “Life’s not going anywhere. It’s okay to take your time.”

Ren smiled, the weight on his chest lifting just a little. “Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.”

They sat together in silence for a little longer, the garden wrapping them in its quiet embrace. The world below felt distant, like it belonged to someone else for the time being. Here, in this rooftop haven, there was no rush—no need to be anything other than what they were.

Eventually, the girl stood, brushing dirt off her hands. “Well, I should get going before the rain starts.”

Ren stood too, not wanting to leave but knowing it was time. “Thanks for... sharing the space.”

She smiled warmly. “Anytime, Ren.”

He blinked. “How did you—?”

The girl grinned, tapping the small tag on his backpack. “You’ve got your name on your bag. Rookie mistake.”

Ren laughed, feeling lighter than he had all day. “Right. I’ll remember that.”

As she headed toward the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, you know.”

Ren tilted his head. “Figure what out?”

She smiled, a quiet certainty in her eyes. “Whatever it is you’re worrying about.”

And with that, she slipped through the door, leaving Ren alone in the fading light.

He stood there for a moment, letting her words settle over him like the cool evening air. The paper crane in his pocket felt warm against his chest, a quiet reminder that he didn’t have to carry everything all at once.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, Ren smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his face toward the sky. Life would keep unfolding—messy, imperfect, and full of moments he hadn’t planned for.

And for the first time, that felt okay.

As Ren left the garden, the sound of rain tapping gently on the leaves, he knew that some spaces—like life itself—were best entered without expectations, just waiting to see what might grow.