The town had always had its strange charm—small, tucked away, with old secrets and whispered rumors floating in the wind. It was a place where everyone knew everyone’s business, especially when it came to the Owens family. Your family’s reputation was a mixed bag; known for their beauty, their magic, but also for their love lives. The Owens women always seemed to fall in love with the wrong people, and with love came heartache, something you’d learned far too young.

You tried to keep your head down, living a quiet life, far away from the whispers, working at the local flower shop, making a living from growing plants that seemed to thrive under your care. But no matter how hard you tried to escape the legacy of your family, it always seemed to follow you.

One evening, as you finished arranging flowers in the small back room of your shop, you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You turned, expecting the usual late-night customer, but found Neville standing in the doorway instead, his expression soft and curious. He’d only been in town for a few months, working at the local herbarium and asking questions about the Owens family every now and then. His questions always seemed innocent enough, but you could tell there was something more behind his eyes—a deep, quiet understanding.

“You’re still working this late?” Neville asked, his voice gentle, but there was something about it that made you stop and look up at him.

You nodded, setting the flowers down. “Someone has to keep the shop running.”

He smiled, stepping inside and brushing a stray leaf off his jacket. “I’ve noticed you’ve been doing a lot more than just keeping the shop running lately. Keeping your distance from everyone.”