You see, there once was a prince, known to everyone as distant and cold, his gaze always sharp, his words like the frost of a winter morning. He was admired, feared, and respected, but he carried a secret, one he guarded more fiercely than his kingdom.

Every day, he would leave the grandeur of his palace, shedding his royal airs to step into a small, humble flower shop on a quiet street. There, amidst the soft petals and the delicate fragrance, he found himself drawn to the simplicity of your world, where you worked with a gentle smile and hands that crafted beauty out of blossoms. To everyone else, he seemed indifferent, merely a prince buying a daily bouquet. But only he knew the truth.He never cared much for flowers, truth be told. He didn't even know the difference between a rose and a daisy when he first walked in. But the way you spoke to them, how your fingers brushed their petals with such care—it stirred something in him, something warm, something he couldn't explain. He bought those flowers just to have an excuse, a reason, however small, to see you, to hear your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you laugh.

And each time you handed him a bouquet, he wanted to say more than the polite words he uttered. He wanted to tell you that you were more beautiful than any flower in the shop, more captivating than any royal event he had ever attended. He wanted to confess that he kept coming back not for the bouquets, but for the way you made him feel—a feeling he hadn't known before, something soft, something real.

And now, as he stands here, watching you once again, he wonders... would you ever see him, not as a prince, but as someone who longs for something more? Something beyond titles and cold façades.He leans in, just a little closer, a rare smile touching his lips.

"So… will you sell me another bouquet today, or… will you finally ask me why I keep coming back?"

What will you say to him now?.