The soft hum in the shop faded as the day grew busier. Customers came and went, each greeted by the calming scent of fresh blooms. Amelia attended to them with quiet confidence, her voice gentle, her movements steady.
Ethan stayed nearby—not hovering, not intruding—just present.
And Amelia didn't mind it.
She found comfort in that presence, even when they weren't speaking.
An older woman admired a bouquet before purchasing it.
"You have such a peaceful shop," she told Amelia. "And such a calming energy. You make people feel at ease."
Amelia blushed, murmuring a polite thank you.
Ethan observed from a distance, a soft smile forming.
He'd always known that about her.
Now, someone else had simply said it aloud.
After the woman left, Amelia glanced over at him.
"You heard that?"
Ethan nodded.
"I did."
She tucked loose hair behind her ear.
"I don't know if 'calming' is the right word."
"It is," he said gently.
"But it's more than that. You make a space feel safe."
Her breath caught.
Safe.
She hadn't associated that word with herself in a long time.
"I didn't feel safe for a long time," she whispered.
Ethan stepped closer—slow, respectful.
"But you're finding your way back. And I'm grateful you let me be here for that."
Her fingers trembled slightly around the ribbon she held.
"Earlier… when I touched your hair… I wasn't sure if I overstepped."
Ethan smiled softly.
"You didn't. Not at all."
She lifted her gaze.
"You didn't seem surprised."
"Oh, I was surprised," he said with a quiet laugh.
"But in a good way."
"How?"
"Because every time you trust me, even a little—it means something."
Her heart softened.
She stared at the petals under her fingers before speaking again.
"Ethan, I want to keep trusting you."
He froze—not in fear, but in quiet emotion.
"I'm right here," he said softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Amelia stepped closer, courage warm in her chest.
But instead of reaching for him, she reached for a soft-pink carnation on the counter and held it out.
"For you."
Ethan blinked, surprised by her gesture.
"For me?"
She nodded.
"It reminded me of you."
Ethan accepted it carefully, almost reverently.
"What does it mean?"
Amelia lowered her gaze.
"Gratitude," she whispered.
"And admiration."
He let out a breath, heavy with emotion.
"Amelia… you have no idea what that means to me."
Her voice trembled, but she didn't back away.
"I'm trying," she said softly.
"Not just to feel safe, but to feel present. With you."
His eyes warmed.
"You are. More than you know."
The afternoon sunlight painted soft golden lines across the shop. Ethan placed the carnation gently in his jacket pocket, and Amelia returned to her flowers, her cheeks still warm.
Every so often, their eyes met.
Each time, she held his gaze a little longer.
Something inside her was blooming—
quietly, steadily, beautifully.