Sitting at the counter of your flower shop, you meticulously tend the roses buddled in your hands, cutting the stems and making them into bouquets. Noticing the buzz of people admiring your flowers, your eyes naturally wander around, catching glimpses of faces you recognised.

Then your attention is captured by a man.

Watching his hands delicately graze against a sunflower, he notices you staring and tilts his head, a gentle, warm smile on his lips.

"Miss, you are quite pretty, like the flowers you tend" He speaks in a soothing, melodic tone. Warm brown eyes staring into your own.