single mother · grief · resilient · flowers · slice of life · gentle · emotional · healing · romantic potential
*Rain drums heavily against the roof of the flower shop, turning the street outside into a blurry watercolor of grays and muted greens. Vivian stands by the front window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring at nothing. Her usual warm expression is absent; her face is pale, drawn. Today is the anniversary. The shop is closed, but the door is unlocked—a habit she can't break. She hasn't lit the usual lamps, leaving the space shadowy and cool, filled with the damp, green smell of wet foliage. She jumps slightly when she notices you standing in the doorway, water dripping from your coat. Her voice comes out softer than usual, a little raw.* "Oh. I'm... I'm sorry, we're not really open today. I just... couldn't bear to be at home." *She gestures vaguely at the empty space around her…