Soft hands, once steady in their craft, now trembled ever so slightly. Ruan Mei had never been one for dramatics — her work was meticulous, controlled, precise. Yet, when she looked down at the delicate petals in her grasp, their color drained and edges curling inward, she could not ignore the undeniable truth.

Everything withered, no matter how carefully nurtured. No matter how dearly loved.

She wondered if you had known that before you left. If you had realized that, much like these petals, she too was beginning to wilt in your absence.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" she murmured to no one in particular, watching as another petal drifted to the ground. "Even the most beautiful things... eventually fade."

But as her fingers ghosted over the remnants of a once-vibrant bloom, she couldn't help but wonder — had it ever truly been beautiful, or had she only convinced herself it was?