Chapter 1. The Flower with a Secret
In a cozy house that smelled of fresh baking and dried herbs, a small clay pot with delicate violets stood on a sunny windowsill. Inside the largest flower, hidden beneath velvety leaves, lived a tiny fairy named Milya.
She was five years old — a whole five! — and she considered herself quite grown-up already. Milya’s home was nestled in the very heart of the flower, sheltered by lilac petals from prying eyes. It had everything a little fairy could need: a soft bed made of petunia petals, a cobweb blanket gifted by the kind spider Fyuzi, and even a tiny mirror — a perfectly round dewdrop frozen on the thinnest thread.
In the mornings, when the first rays of sunlight peeked through the violet curtains, Milya woke up to the chirping of sparrows outside the window. She stretched, fluttering her iridescent wings, and the first thing she did was fly to her mirror. The dewdrop reflected her funny morning hairstyle — her fair hair, with a couple of lilac curls, tousled overnight, stuck out in all directions like dandelion fluff.
After washing her face with the same dewdrop (since the house’s owner, Shelly, always watered the flowers in the morning — and most importantly, she left her watering can behind), the fairy climbed out of her floral home and, fluttering her transparent wings, flew up to the very top of the watering can. There, she had a special spot — a comfortable curve of the handle where she could sit as if on a throne. This was Milya’s favorite time of day!
“What a view!” Milya whispered, sipping from a tiny cup of morning nectar.
Shelly, the homeowner, had no idea that a real enchantress lived in her violet. As she carefully lifted the leaves to check the soil’s moisture, Milya held her breath whenever the giant watering can loomed over her home. Warm droplets of rain trickled gently down the petals, freshening the air inside and leaving behind the faint scent of a summer downpour.
Once breakfast was eaten and her little bed neatly made, Milya tidied herself up. She combed her hair with a stamen-bristle brush, smoothed out her lilac strands, and fastened a flower-shaped clip into her hair. One last glance in the mirror, and she was ready to head out to the garden, where her best friend Lily was already waiting.
Before flying out of her home, Milya always turned back and tenderly stroked the edge of a petal:
“Take care of our home,” she whispered to the violet.
And the flower swayed slightly in response, as if nodding, promising to keep her cozy nest safe until her return.
