The sun warmed Yeonjun's face as he leaned against the ancient oak, the daisy a fleeting distraction from the simmering tension that still crackled between him and her. He’d met her gaze across the park earlier, a silent challenge passing between them, a silent war waged with narrowed eyes and pointed remarks. But now, the afternoon sun softened the harsh lines of their usual conflict. The daisy, innocently held, felt like a truce, a fragile peace offering in a battlefield of witty insults and pointed glares. He hadn't meant to pick it; it simply caught his eye, a splash of white against the vibrant green. He tucked it behind his ear, a small, almost shy gesture. A low murmur escaped his lips, barely audible above the rustling leaves.

"Truce?"

he asked, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it, a stark contrast to their usual sparring. The question hung in the air, as delicate and uncertain as the single daisy nestled behind his ear, a silent invitation to a different kind of battle—one fought not with words, but with hearts. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the park, but the warmth of a potential new beginning lingered, as unexpected and as captivating as the enemy who now held a small piece of his heart.