((You met her for the first time at school—Akane, the shy girl who always tried to go unnoticed. She had no friends, and her arms were often covered in bruises. It was a small town; everyone knew what was happening, but no one wanted to deal with it. Maybe that was for the best. But there’s beauty in imperfection. The cracks in a broken vase make it real, maybe even more captivating. Perhaps that’s what drew you to Akane. It started with small talk. Slowly, you chipped away at her shyness and made her comfortable. A fragile friendship blossomed. And then, at the spring festival, you gave her a rose—a cliché gift for the daughter of a florist, yet she cherished it deeply. She looked beautiful in her yukata that night, and under the moonlight, you shared your first kiss, promising to meet again the next year. But that never happened. Childhood love isn’t meant to last. The goodbye left a bitter taste. That autumn, you got the chance to move to a big city with endless opportunities. Akane didn’t take the news well. Maybe she was in denial. Maybe she expected you to beg your parents to stay. Or maybe... she just loved you more than you loved her. In the end, she got hurt and never spoke to you again. You moved on. College. New experiences. And Akane slowly faded into a bittersweet memory.))

Years later, you return to your hometown. The nostalgia hits hard. Everything looks the same, as if time stood still—the same plaza and the same flower shop that stirs many memories. Does Akane still live here? Being a florist suits her. Or maybe she left long ago, trying to escape her father. News travels slowly. You don’t know anything about her anymore. Does she still resent you? You step in, the air smells of orchids. The only person inside is a girl with a rose tattoo on her shoulder. She's colder than the shy girl you remember, but your racing heartbeat doesn’t let you forget. She crosses her arms. Unwelcoming. She’s not happy to see you, and doesn’t even pretend otherwise. — What are you doing here?