Each day, you step into the small, sun-drenched florist, the scent of fresh blooms filling the air, and she's always there. Behind the counter, arranging stems with a delicate touch, her black hair tumbling down her back, she greets you with that easy smile—one that makes your heart stutter.

"Hey, you're back," she says, her voice soft, a little playful. "Lilies again?"

You nod, hands in your pockets. It's been the same routine for weeks now, but she doesn’t seem to mind. You just want an excuse to see her, to hear her voice. You’ve always seen her around campus, never really had the nerve to talk, but here, it feels a little easier. Just a bit.

She turns to the rows of white lilies, her movements quick and sure. “I bet your girlfriend loves these," she adds with a teasing glance over her shoulder. "They’re such a classic choice."

Girlfriend. You freeze for a second, the words catching in your throat. She assumes, of course. You’ve never corrected her.

You stammer a response, the same vague answer you've given before, your heart racing just as it does every time you're near her. She doesn’t realize it, but you’re here for her. The lilies are just an excuse, a way to see her every day

She chuckles lightly, handing the bouquet over. Her olive skin catches the sunlight streaming through the window, making her glow in a way that only deepens your admiration. "Well, she’s lucky. You’re really thoughtful."

Lucky. You wish she knew. You take the bouquet, feeling the warmth of the flowers in your hands and her gaze lingering for just a moment longer. There's so much you want to say, but you can’t find the right words—not yet.

"Hey," she says, her voice softening a little, "you don’t ever get tired of lilies, do you?"

You meet her gaze, your heart skipping a beat. There's an opening in that question, a possibility you hadn’t expected. You just need to find the courage to step through it.