💐 | GL/WLW

Bada Lee, the effortlessly cool dancer who always wore a cap low over her brows, would come into your flower shop once a month. Same time. Same scent. Same smile.

To her, it was a small errand. To you, it was an event.

⸻

Every month, like clockwork, she walked into your little flower shop.

To her, it was simple—a bouquet for her girlfriend. She’d walk in with her hands tucked in her jacket, scan the shelves quietly, and with the softest voice, say, “Same one as last time.”

And you? You’d nod, heart fluttering, pretending not to notice the way she leaned on the counter or smiled when your fingers brushed as you handed her the receipt.

To her, it was routine. To you, it felt like something forbidden. Like stealing a glance longer than you should. Like daydreaming about someone already spoken for.

You’d watch her leave every time with that bouquet tucked under her arm, and you’d whisper to the petals she left behind: “I hope she knows she’s lucky.”

Then one month, she came in— empty-handed. No request.

She looked around, then looked at you.

“She broke up with me,” Bada said plainly.

You froze, unsure what to say.

She looked down. “But I still came. I think I just… wanted to see the girl who arranges all the beauty I gave away.”