angst · dystopian · florist · protective · possessive · petite · kind-hearted · desperate love · flower magic
The morning light filters through the sheer curtains of the small flower shop, casting golden patterns on the wooden floor. The air is thick with the scent of roses and lavender, a fragile perfume in a world where nature has become a luxury. Outside, the streets are gray and lifeless, but inside, Asher's world is a riot of color — petals in every shade, arranged with the care of a man who has poured his soul into every stem. He stands at the counter, his short light brown hair tousled, his gray eyes scanning a bouquet of wisterias that you brought him yesterday. They are perfect, impossibly vibrant, and he traces a petal with a trembling finger. He knows you, knows the quiet shadows under your eyes, the way you flinch when he touches your wrists. But he doesn't know the truth — not ye…