Rosey had never been afraid of falling. As a kid, she would climb trees higher than anyone else. She’d scrape her knees. She’d even laugh while getting back up. Because to her, failure wasn’t something to fear. It was proof she had tried.
Evan stood at the base of the canyon, arms crossed, his face full of grief. And it wasn’t his first time.
It was there that he watched a man fall to his death. And now, he was about to watch that man’s daughter attempt the same climb.
Everyone had known the moment would come, though, and the world had been patiently waiting. Her father had been one of the greatest climbers to ever live. And his name was carved into history, respected by all.
That’s why no one had attempted the climb since—not out of fear, but out of respect. See, everyone knew he had a daughter, Rosey. She had always been by his side. In fact, the only time she wasn’t with him was on his last climb, when his rope snapped. So all eyes were now on her, the girl born without fear.
She tightened the straps on her harness, fingers steady, a big grin on her face as she faced the giant challenge ahead.
Evan exhaled. “You don’t have to do this.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but I want to.”
He sighed, doing a final check of her equipment. “Then at least don’t die.”
“No promises,” she laughed as she turned away, excited to finally start.
She climbed in silence. The rock was rough beneath her fingertips. And the wind whispered through the canyon. Evan called out directions, his voice getting more and more distant. But Rosey knew all she had to do was focus.
Left foot. Right hand. Shift weight. Breathe. Keep going. Higher. She had trained for this. Not just physically, but mentally. She had spent years embracing the idea that failure wasn’t something to fear, it was something to chase. Her father had taught her that.
“Failure means you tried, Rosey Rose,” he once said, ruffling her hair. “And if you tried, you’re already ahead of the ones who were too scared to.”
She had carried those words with her all her life. And now, as she climbed the very wall that had taken him, she clung to them harder than the rock itself. And now, she realized how it felt to finally not want to embrace failure at all.
Evan was below, watching, just like he had watched her father all those years ago. He had been the one to hold her when she broke down. And he was the one now, gripping the rope, praying he wouldn’t have to experience another loss. For Evan wasn’t just some guy, he was like family.
Eventually, Rosey made it to the hardest part, the overhang. The place where her father’s luck ran out and gravity didn’t care how famous he was.
Her heart pounded, but her hands were steady. She reached up, fingers searching for the next hold, and pulled herself up. And at first, everything was going okay…until it wasn’t.
Suddenly, her grip failed as the rock crumbled beneath her hand, and the world tilted as she slipped.
The fall was fast and violent. Her stomach lurched as the rope yanked her, slamming her into the wall. Then…stillness. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Nor could she breathe. And there was a sharp pain in her chest.
No.
She inhaled sharply, shaking the pain and doubt away. She knew she hadn’t failed yet. And she refused to. So, she forced herself to move, swinging her legs for momentum.
Evan held the rope at the bottom, quietly letting her focus. Back and forth, again and again, edging closer to the rock. She reached out—
Ping.
The sound cut through the air like a gunshot. She froze. Above her, the bolt had slipped. Her stomach clenched.
Ping.
Then another bolt popped. The ground rushed toward her. And time slowed. She imagined her father in this exact moment. Falling. Knowing the ground was racing toward him.
Was he scared? Did he accept it? Did he think of me?
Tears burned her eyes. She didn’t want to die like he did. She didn’t want Evan to watch another person he loved disappear.
But there was no stopping it now.
Ping.
The final bolt ripped free.
And just as Rosey was about to accept her fate, she was wrapped in warmth. And as she turned her head, he was there. And she was weightless as the world around her became a blur.
“Dad?” she gasped.
He held her in his arms. Lifted her. Guided her hands and placed her feet in the perfect position.
“Rosey Rose,” his voice was calm, steady, real. “Fear never stopped you before. Don’t let it stop you now.”
Her hands trembled, “I’m so scared. I need you.”
“We don’t fear failure. And we aren’t ashamed of our scrapes and bruises. Because no matter what, we tried. And as much as I know you miss me, you can’t follow me this time.”
“But dad, I—”
“Climb my little flower,” he said, disappearing into the wind as the world around her came back in focus.
Suddenly, she felt a strength that wasn’t just her own. And she climbed, step by step, breath by breath, letting her father’s words push her through. And before she knew it, she made it to the top, pulling herself over the ledge, gasping, body trembling.
But as she turned around to celebrate, she remembered she was alone. And as her throat tightened, and she swallowed her grief, she remembered how he was always there.
He had been with her in every failure. In every fall. In every scraped knee and burning muscle. And she knew he had been with her now. She let out a shaky laugh, blinking back tears.
“Rosey!” Evan’s voice breaks through the silence. She turned to see him standing below, tears in his eyes. “I’m so damn proud of you!” he roared, his voice carrying through the canyon, filling the emptiness.
Her legs trembled. Her chest ached. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to collapse.
And then, just for a second, his echo faded into something else. Like a whisper in the wind. A voice she’d know anywhere.
“Proud of you, my fearless flower.”
Her breath hitched. And a gust of warm air brushed past her like a final hug.
