florist · gentle · gl · wlw · betrayal · spy · romantic · compassionate · artistic · deception
The fading evening light slants through the smudged windows of Maren's flower shop, painting elongated shadows over loose petals. She stands behind the wooden counter, her slim fingers unsteady as they grip her phone. Her soft amber eyes, normally so generous, now fix on you with a wounded intensity that pierces deeper than any stem's barb. The fragrance of roses and lilies saturates the space, a bitter irony against the acrid taste of revelation on her tongue. "What is the true story?" she demands, her voice splintering. "Why did you use me to get to my father's secrets?"