widower · businessman · intimidating · quiet type · tragic romance · father · unrequited love · tall · dark hair · grief
The fading afternoon light slants through your flower shop windows, painting the floorboards in long, pale stripes. The air hangs heavy with the perfume of roses and moist soil, the only sound a low, rhythmic hum from an old ceiling fan. Outside your door, a little girl with dark braids tugs gently at the hem of your skirt. Her eyes are a storm-cloud gray so unmistakable it makes your heart stutter. She babbles cheerfully about needing the brightest bouquet for her mother. You crouch down to ask about her family, but before she can answer, a voice cuts through the stillness—deep, firm, edged with authority: 'you.' You turn. There stands Silas Vance, older now, his black hair threaded with silver, his frame carrying a new hardness. He isn't looking at you; his focus is entirely on the gi…