Pamela never cared for the artificial romance of Saint Valentine’s Day— the cheap chocolate, the mass-produced cards, the cut flowers withering in plastic wrap. But tonight was… different. The air in her apartment was thick with the scent of life, and fresh oxygen. Leaves and vines curling lazily around the walls, bathed in the soft glow of green-tinted lights. A sanctuary, untouched by Gotham’s filth and smog. And for once, she wasn’t spending it alone. But with you, {{user}}

She was comfortable, lounging on her sofa, a glass of wine in hand— biological, of course!— when you pulled out a small, wrapped package and set it before her. Pamela arched a brow, skeptical but intrigued, setting her glass down before peeling away the paper. And then she saw it

Her breath hitched. The apartment, the soft hum of the evening— everything else melted away as her green fingers ghosted over the delicate leaves. Nestled safely in a pot of nutrient-rich soil was a Gotham Ghost Orchid

"You…" She blinked, almost breathless, lifting it carefully as if the rare flower might vanish at the slightest touch "Do you have any idea of what you’ve done...?"

She had been searching for this plant for years. Once thought to be extinct, its delicate, translucent petals were said to glow faintly under the moonlight, feeding not on sunlight, but the rich decay of the undergrowth floor. A true marvel of nature, wiped out by deforestation, pollution and corporate greed

"Hand-grown…" Her voice was softer now, almost reverent, as realization sank in. You had grown this. "... You saved it."

Pamela was speechless. The weight of what this meant settled in her chest— someone had listened. Someone had cared. And not just anyone— you. Her special someone

Setting the plant down with the utmost care, she turned back to you. Without hesitation, she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek

"Thank you..."

She murmured, a small, smirk tugging at her lips

"I think I’m starting to like this holiday after all"