"Come and find me, find us. There will be no more seperation. Every drops of my blood in my vein will always call out your name in every lifetimes that we will face. Hold me like i will. Tell me the words that i've always wantet to hear. Wishper my name in every litle pray that you wish and faith will gather us once again for the ethernal last"
Sera's steps faltered as raindrops began to fall, dotting the pavement.
The evening sky, once painted a soft orange, slowly turned gray, as if every color was being swallowed by a curtain of rain.
She let out a small sigh.
Unfortunately, she hadn't brought an umbrella that day.
She glanced left and right, searching for a place to take shelter.
Her attention was suddenly drawn to a small shop at the corner of the street.
Oddly, she had never noticed it before, even though she had walked down this road every day for months.
Without a second thought, Sera hurried across the street before the rain grew heavier.
An old wooden sign hung above the door, its paint peeling, but the faint, faded letters were still legible: Antiquaria.
She hesitated for a moment, but the rain urged her forward.
With a soft push, she opened the door.
A delicate chime rang from an old bell above the entrance, announcing her arrival.
A distinctive aroma—an earthy blend of aged books, decaying wood, and a faint scent of dried herbs—filled her senses.
The air inside felt different: cool, calm, and somehow… heavy, as though it carried secrets long forgotten.
Sera looked around.
The shop was dim, lit only by the warm, yellowish glow of a hanging lamp.
Tall wooden shelves stood in rows, filled with neglected relics:
an old clock with frozen hands stuck at eleven, a porcelain doll with pale blue eyes and a cracked cheek, stacks of leather-bound books, and a large mirror whose surface seemed foggy, as if breathing.
There was something eerie about the place, yet it was strangely captivating… almost alluring.
Her steps halted before a small glass display table.
On it lay an assortment of trinkets—rings, antique brooches, and oddly shaped old keys.
Without thinking, her fingers reached out to touch one in particular:
an oval silver locket, engraved with a delicate white lily.
In that instant, her heartbeat quickened.
It felt as though the locket was watching her, whispering to her in a language her ears couldn't hear, but her soul could feel.
---
"I've never seen you here before.
Welcome to Antiquaria, where objects choose their owners, not the other way around."
Sera startled.
The deep, resonant voice came from behind the shelves.
An old man emerged, wearing a long, worn coat, his silver hair in disarray.
His gaze was sharp, yet his faint smile felt strangely familiar, as if he already knew her.
Sera stood frozen, still clutching the locket unconsciously.
The man's eyes dropped to the object in her hand, and his smile widened ever so slightly.
"Ah… you've finally found it. I was beginning to think you'd never return."
Confused, Sera followed his gaze to her own hand.
Quickly, she extended it toward him, flustered.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to take it. It's just… it looked so beautiful, I wanted a closer look. I–I'll put it back."
But the old man stepped closer and gently pushed her hand back toward her chest.
"No. It belongs to you."
"M-me?" she stammered.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving the locket.
Sera frowned, wondering if this was some kind of marketing trick to persuade her to buy it.
Looking at his somewhat shabby appearance and the rundown shop, she thought perhaps buying it might help him financially.
"Well then, how much is it? If I can afford it, I'll buy it."
Instead of answering, the old man chuckled, leaving Sera even more bewildered.
"Take it. Consider it a birthday gift," he said abruptly.
Sera's eyes widened.
How could he possibly know it was her birthday?
"This shop…" he continued, his tone deep and deliberate,
"does not sell to just anyone.
Rather, the item chooses the person, not the other way around."
The words hung in the air, heavy and full of meaning.
Sera's throat went dry.
She wanted to refuse, to return the locket to the table, yet her hand gripped it even tighter,
as though afraid it might be taken from her.
Outside, the rain poured harder, hammering against the windows.
Inside, silence stretched—broken only by the soft ticking of the old clock.
Strangely, its frozen hands, which had been stuck at eleven before, now moved ever so slowly.
Tick… tock… tick… tock…
Sera swallowed hard. "Then… how much is it really? Give me your price..." she whispered.
The old man's faint smile returned.
"The price was paid a long time ago.
All you need to do now is… keep the promise sealed within it."
"Promise? What promise?" she asked, bewildered.
The man's expression grew serious as he stepped closer, making Sera instinctively step back.
"Give a chance," he said softly yet firmly, "to the one who has waited for you all this time…
just as you have waited for them.
Do not let old mistakes be repeated."
His sharp gaze pierced through her, each word heavy with unspoken meaning.
Sera's confusion deepened, questions tumbling in her mind.
But before she could ask anything, the bell above the door rang again—
Ching!
A cold gust of wind swept through the shop, making the hanging lamp sway gently.
Instinctively, Sera turned toward the door.
When she looked back at the old man—
he was gone.
The shelves stood still and silent, as if no one else had been there at all.
Her chest tightened as she clutched the locket.
Her heart pounded wildly.
It felt as though she had just stepped into a mystery far bigger than herself.
And for the first time that day, Sera realized…
the florist across the street might not be the only place hiding secrets about the person who had been haunting her thoughts.