"Sometimes, the smallest bloom finds its way through the cracks—just like healing begins inplaces we don't expect."
— Ryu Taesung, quietly, while holding the white tul
ips
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sea stretched far and wide, dyed in hues of tangerine and gold as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. Waves lapped softly at the shore, humming a lullaby only the sea knew. The town of Yeondae was quiet, resting like an old soul in a forgotten corner of the world—small, peaceful, and untouched by time.
Ryu Taesung stepped out of the black sedan with a quiet sigh. The driver, sensing the mood, said nothing and simply retrieved his luggage from the trunk. Taesung barely glanced at the man before taking the handle of the suitcase himself.
"You don't have to wait. I'll call when I need to return," Taesung said, his voice even but distant.
The driver gave a short bow. "Yes, sir. Take care."
The car pulled away, leaving him standing in front of a modest cottage-style guesthouse. A simple wooden sign swung gently in the breeze: Ocean Rest Inn. The salty air tickled his nose, the breeze brushing his jet-black hair across his forehead. For the first time in months, he felt... less suffocated.
Taesung had come to this seaside town to disappear—at least for a little while. After endless meetings, boardroom battles, and a birthday party he didn't even attend, he needed space. Not just from people, but from himself.
He wheeled his suitcase toward the entrance. The landlady, a plump woman in her fifties with rosy cheeks and kind eyes, greeted him with a warm smile.
"Mr. Ryu? We've been expecting you. Your room is ready. Dinner will be served at seven."
"Thank you," he said with a polite nod, though his tone lacked warmth.
She didn't seem to mind. In fact, she leaned in slightly. "There's a lovely little flower shop down the road. Lee's Flowers. The young man who runs it is sweet as sugar. If you're planning to stay long, you might want to decorate your room with something fresh."
Taesung gave a noncommittal hum and went to his room.
---
A few blocks away, nestled between a bakery and an old bookstore, sat the flower shop the landlady mentioned. Painted pale yellow with a bell that chimed whenever the door opened, it looked like something from a picture book.
Inside, Lee Aeri stood on a small wooden stool, adjusting a row of hanging ferns. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing thin arms dusted with soil. Strands of chestnut hair fell over his eyes, and a smudge of pollen clung to his cheek.
He hummed softly as he worked, pausing now and then to greet his flowers like old friends.
"You did so well today," he whispered to a blooming hydrangea. "Tomorrow, we'll give you a spot by the window."
The bell jingled.
Startled, Aeri turned too quickly. The stool wobbled. In a flash, he lost balance, bracing himself for the impact.
Strong arms caught him.
"Careful," a low voice murmured.
Aeri blinked up, breath caught in his throat. The man holding him was tall, sharply dressed, and so handsome it made his heart skip. His grip was firm, but gentle. Dark eyes stared into his with unreadable depth.
Taesung had only come in looking for something neutral—maybe a plant for the windowsill. He hadn't expected someone to fall into his arms. Literally.
"I-I'm so sorry!" Aeri stammered, cheeks pink. He scrambled back, dusting off his apron.
Taesung raised a brow. "Are you always this clumsy, or is it just special for me?"
Aeri's blush deepened. "Just for you, apparently... I mean—not like that! I—thank you for catching me."
A chuckle escaped Taesung before he could stop it. The sound surprised them both.
He glanced around. "This your shop?"
"Yes! I'm Aeri. Lee Aeri," he said, holding out a hand. It was a little scratched from working with thorns.
"Ryu Taesung."
Their hands touched. Warm. Awkward. Something about it lingered.
Taesung looked around again. The shop was filled with soft colors—lavender, baby's breath, daisies, sunflowers. It smelled like earth and sweetness.
"Do you have anything that doesn't scream spring?"
Aeri tilted his head. "Do you want something... calmer? Or something a little sad?"
"Something quiet. Not sad. Just... tired."
Aeri studied him for a moment, then nodded.
He moved to the corner and returned with a small pot of white tulips. "These are simple, gentle. They don't need much attention but still bloom beautifully."
Taesung took the pot, thumb brushing a petal.
"How much?"
Aeri hesitated, then smiled. "Consider it a gift. First-time customers get a welcome flower."
Taesung frowned. "You won't make money that way."
"Maybe not. But flowers are meant to be shared."
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And for the first time in a long while, Taesung didn't feel like arguing.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Aeri beamed. "Come back anytime. We talk to all our flowers, but they like hearing new voices."
Taesung paused at the door, white tulips in hand. "Do they answer back?"
Aeri grinned. "Only if you're gentle enough to hear them."
Outside, the sea breeze caught his coat as Taesung walked back toward the inn. He glanced down at the pot in his hands—white tulips, soft and alive.
He wasn't sure why, but they made his chest feel... lighter.
Maybe this place wouldn't be so unbearable after all.
And ma
ybe, just maybe, the florist with sunlight in his voice would be the one to make him bloom again.