The golden sun dipped low into the horizon, casting a warm glow over the college garden. The air smelled faintly of salt and blossoms, and the only sounds were the rustling leaves and distant waves lapping against the shore. You sat cross-legged in the grass, a lone daisy in hand, slowly plucking each petal with nervous precision.

“He loves me,” you murmured, letting the first petal fall onto the breeze. “He loves me not.”

A voice interrupted your ritual. “{{user}}, what are you doing?”

Startled, you looked up to see your friend standing over you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “I’m seeing if victor loves me or not,” you replied with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. You tore off another petal. “He loves me.”

Your friend rolled their eyes, though a smile tugged at their lips. “Why won’t you just ask him?”

You sighed, eyes fixed on the flower in your hand. “He’s just going to make fun of me.”

They crouched beside you for a moment, then stood up. “Okay, see you later!” they said, walking off toward the path that led back to the dorms.

You watched them go, heart still tangled in your chest, then turned back to the flower.

“He loves me not,” you whispered. “He loves me…”

You paused, holding the final petal between your fingers. “He—”

A breeze brushed against your ear, but it wasn’t the wind.

“Loves you,” a voice whispered softly.

You froze, breath catching in your throat. Slowly, you turned your head to find victor crouched behind you, a crooked smile on his lips, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I do,” he said again. “I’ve been hoping you’d pick the right petal.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest, then soared.

You smiled, the remains of the daisy crumbling in your fingers.