Hydrangeas for Her Biggest Cheerleader

Nurin pushed open the door to her apartment in Georgetown, still tired from the long drive. It had been a stressful work week, back-to-back deadlines, heavy traffic, and the usual pressure of trying to balance everything on her own. But today wasn’t about her job. Today, she made a promise to herself. She wanted to thank someone who rarely received thanks.

Her mother.

For years, her mum had been her anchor. The one who sent warm messages every morning, the one who still reminded her to “drive safely,” the one who cooked extra every time Nurin visited, even if she insisted, she wasn’t hungry. Her mum gave love everywhere, quietly, consistently, without ever expecting anything in return. Nurin realised she had said “thank you” with words too many times… and too casually. She wanted to say it properly this time.

That’s why she stopped by White On White, known as the best florist in Malaysia, especially around Penang. She chose this bouquet because hydrangeas reminded her of her mother. Gentle, full, and beautiful in a quiet way. Pastel blues, soft purples, pinks, and creamy whites blended into a peaceful harmony, like all the seasons of love her mum had given her. When she arrived home, her mother was folding laundry in the living room.

“Mama…” Nurin said softly. Her mother looked up. “You’re home! Let me heat up some food for you-” But Nurin shook her head and placed the bouquet gently on the table. “This is for you.” Her mother blinked, confused. “Me? For what?”

“For everything,” Nurin whispered. “For always being here, even when I forget to say thank you. For all the love you give without asking for anything back.” Her mother slowly reached for the blooms, her fingertips brushing the soft petals. A smile crept onto her face, that kind of smile that was rare but precious, one that Nurin had missed seeing.

“These are so beautiful,” her mother murmured. “You didn’t have to do this…”

“I wanted to,” Nurin said. “You deserve something beautiful.”

Her mother traced the hydrangeas like she was trying to memorise every colour. The bouquet brightened the whole room instantly. Blues for calm, purples for admiration, pink for affection, and white for purity. Each hue mirrored a different way her mother had loved her over the years. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The flowers said everything Nurin struggled to express.

Her mother placed a hand on her cheek. “You have always been enough, you know that?” Nurin felt warmth rise in her chest… the same warmth she felt when she first chose the bouquet. Sometimes gratitude doesn’t need big gestures. It is just choosing a bouquet, delivering it yourself, and finally acknowledging the heart that held you through every chapter.

Tonight, hydrangeas said what words never could.