Chapter 140
The Project Returns
The succulent grew a new leaf and Mira broke the pot.
The accident happened during a morning when I was trying to answer three Tokyo messages and Adrian was on a governance call. Mira had learned to reach, though she had not learned what belonged to her.
Her hand caught the edge of the pot.
The pot fell.
Soil scattered across the floor.
The succulent landed on its side, roots exposed.
Adrian ended his call immediately.
“Is she hurt?”
“No.”
“Is the plant—”
“Also no.”
He reached for Mira.
I reached for the plant.
We both stopped.
“You take her,” I said.
“You want the plant?”
“I want to see whether the roots can be replanted.”
He lifted Mira.
The broken pot lay between us.
It was the same pot I had damaged during the first weeks of our marriage, when I had tried to repair something without asking whether Adrian wanted it repaired. He had bought a replacement then. I had resented the replacement because it made the damage look finished.
This time, the pot was still broken.
I placed the succulent in a glass bowl and covered the roots with soil. Adrian held Mira above the table so she could not reach the pieces.
“We can buy another pot,” he said.
“We could.”
“But you do not want to.”
“Not yet.”
Mira made a small sound.
“She is apologizing,” Adrian said.
“She is hungry.”
“That too.”
We cleaned the floor together.
The Tokyo team sent a revised budget while we worked. The community board had rejected Sterling’s proposed expansion and requested a smaller opening with local control.
I approved the change.
Adrian did not ask whether I wanted him to review it.
“You are learning,” I said.
“I am trying not to turn your work into a family meeting.”
The distinction mattered.
In the afternoon, the ethics division asked whether the succulent should appear in a campaign about reform. The plant had become a private symbol after a photo of it appeared in the court records.
I refused permission.
“Why?” Adrian asked.
“Because the plant is not a lesson.”
“It is a good one.”
“Then we keep it for ourselves.”
The glass bowl sat on the windowsill. Mira could not reach it anymore.
The old pot went into the archive box with the voided contract.
I did not throw it away.
Adrian looked at the box.
“You keep broken things.”
“I keep evidence of what happened.”
“And what survives.”
“Both.”
He touched my shoulder only after asking.
Mira began to cry.
We went to her together.