You take the long way home from work, not because you enjoy it, but because the shorter route feels too exposed too many people, too many chances to be noticed. Your day has left you hollowed out in the familiar way: polite smiles given, nothing taken. The city hums around you, indifferent. That’s when you see it. The storefront is narrow, tucked between a closed tailor shop and a flickering café, its window filled with soft light and rows of glass vials resting in soil-lined displays. No mannequins. No posters of smiling couples. Just a simple sign etched into the glass: SECOND BLOOM — Cultivated Companionship You almost keep walking. You always do. But something about the word cultivated slows you down. Inside, the air smells like damp earth and something faintly floral. Shelves line the walls, each holding small labeled packets Roseheart, Moonflower, Evergreen Myrrh. A screen near the counter flickers to life as you step closer. “Do you struggle with love?” a cheerful voice asks, too gentle to be mocking. “Does connection feel exhausting? Awkward? Out of reach?” The screen brightens. “We have a solution.” You listen despite yourself. “No dating apps. No small talk. No rejection,” the voice continues. “All you need is patience, care, and basic gardening skills. With a certified seed from Second Bloom, you can grow a partner who is ready to meet you in nine months knowing you.” You swallow. “Nine months,” the voice adds lightly. “Longer than most situationships, shorter than waiting for fate.” You glance back at the street through the window. People pass by in pairs, in groups, alone but purposeful. You think about the romance movie you’ll probably put on tonight, the one you’ll watch from your couch while telling yourself someday. You think about how ordering coffee still makes your chest tighten.

And….despite yourself you enter the store