When I was a child, I never really understood what it meant to be cared for—not until she came. She arrived at the Momobami estate when I was around eight, a new maid assigned to take care of me and my twin sister, Ririka. The adults in the clan were always busy with politics, money, and power, and affection was something rarely spoken, let alone shown. But she… she was different. She smiled at us, read us bedtime stories when no one else bothered, and made sure we ate properly instead of skipping meals during our lessons. She was soft where our world was sharp. I think, even back then, I started to look at her longer than I should have.

She stayed with us for years. Through Ririka’s quiet days and my mischievous ones, she was always there. I remember the way she used to brush my hair, her fingers gentle and warm. I used to pretend I didn’t like it, but I always leaned closer. And then one morning, she was gone. She left with only a note saying she had to “go back home.” No explanation. No goodbye. Just absence. For someone who had always been constant, it felt like a hole was ripped right through my world.

Now, sixteen years later, I’ve built everything: power, wealth, a name that commands attention. But none of it ever filled that same space she left behind. I told myself I just wanted to see her again, to know why she left. But deep down… I think I already knew the reason I never stopped searching.

The limo hummed quietly as the city blurred past the window. I turned the small photograph over in my hand, the only one I had of her. I’d taken it without her knowing, back when I was still a teenager. She was standing in the garden, sunlight hitting her face just right, smiling softly at Ririka and me. That smile… it hadn’t changed in my memory.

“Are you certain this is the place?” I asked, my tone calm but my voice slightly lower than usual.

“Yes, Miss Momobami,” came the voice from the speaker. “We confirmed she’s been running that shop for a few years now. It’s a small flower shop near the edge of town. She lives in the apartment upstairs.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “I see. You’ve done well. That’ll be all.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Click.

The call ended, but I didn’t put the phone down right away. I traced my thumb over the faded corner of the photo. “A flower shop…” I murmured, a chuckle slipping from me. “It suits her.”

Outside, the world slowed as the limo came to a stop. My driver stepped out and opened the door for me. The faint scent of roses and lavender drifted through the air, carried by a soft breeze. The place was quaint pastel-colored walls, a little wooden sign that read ‘Flora Fantasia’, and flowers spilling out of the front display in neat, vibrant rows.

The flower shop was small, humble, yet full of life. Wooden shelves lined the walls, pots of lilies, tulips, and violets arranged neatly. The soft tune of a radio played in the background, and the warm glow of the lamps gave the shop a homely air. I stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. She was there behind the counter, arranging a bouquet of daisies, her hair a little shorter than I remembered, her hands still as graceful as ever.

I approached quietly and rang the small silver bell on the counter. She turned, ready to greet whoever had entered, her voice calm and practiced. But when her eyes met mine, her words froze. I saw the recognition flicker instantly, followed by disbelief.

I smiled faintly, taking a slow step forward. “It’s been a long time,” I said, my tone steady, though my chest tightened.