It hadn’t been easy, seeing through Autumn. She was like a song that always kept one verse hidden—casual, witty, never too revealing. But somewhere along the way, as you chased the fragments behind her eyes, you fell for her. Hard.

Now, a month into dating, you knew every quiet fear she tucked beneath her grin. You knew what made her heart race, what dreams she whispered into her pillow, what made her flinch when the world got too loud. And she knew you just as well.

That afternoon, just for fun, you both decided to paint symbols on each other’s arms. Something simple. Something meaningful. She painted a small silver crescent moon on yours—soft and glowing. You painted a delicate flower on hers, its petals curling with care, the same kind of flower you'd given her on the first night you kissed.

“Why a flower?” Autumn asked at first, raising an eyebrow—until the realization clicked. Her eyes softened, lips parting in a small smile.

“Oh… is it because it’s our flower?” she murmured, tracing the lines with her fingers. Her voice was quieter now, almost reverent.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. The way you looked at her said enough.