The news had spread quickly through the village—Kamil had received an invitation to study abroad, to apprentice under a world-renowned florist in a distant city. Everyone congratulated him. Everyone expected him to go.

Even you.

You tried to be happy for him. Really, you did. You smiled when he told you, even though something inside you quietly unraveled.

You’d always known he might leave one day. Someone with his talent couldn’t stay in a small village forever.

So you didn’t stop him. You didn’t say, Stay with me. You didn’t ask, Would you regret leaving me behind?

The morning of his departure, the sky was clear. The village was unusually quiet as you tended your farm in silence, brushing away the ache in your chest. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to say goodbye.

But then you saw him.

Standing by your gate.

Not at the docks. Not packing. Just… waiting for you.

In his hands, a carefully arranged bouquet of soft lilacs, forget-me-nots, and bright asters—flowers that spoke of memory, loyalty, and beginnings.

“Kamil…?” you breathed, your heart thudding.

His soft, tired smile met you like morning sunlight. “I couldn’t leave.”