The rain fell lightly against the café window where Adam sat alone, watching the world with lifeless eyes. Five years had passed since she left, yet she still haunted every detail of his day.
He couldn't forget her last smile, nor the trembling of his hand that had failed to save her. That feeling of helplessness gnawed at his heart every night, as if her final screams still echoed in his mind.
He lifted his coffee cup to his lips, but didn't drink. The taste was always bitter, no matter how much sugar he added. The true flavor no longer lived in things—it lived in memories.
Across the street, a small flower shop stood. Its windows glistened with rain, but the bright colors of the flowers seemed to fight the grayness of the day.
Something made him lift his eyes… and he saw her.
A girl sat in a wheelchair behind the glass, carefully arranging the flowers with her delicate hands. It wasn't a mere routine motion; it was as if she was planting life into every flower she touched.
Her face was calm, carrying a small, pure smile despite the obvious weariness in her features.
She held a white rose, lifted it gently to her nose, then placed it in a vase as if offering it to the whole world.
Adam felt something strange. For a single moment, a tiny ray of light slipped through the cracks of his dark heart. A light he didn't know if it was an illusion or reality.
But it quickly faded, whispering inside him:
— "No… I don't want another love. I don't want to lose again."
He bowed his head to the table, trying to escape those eyes full of life. But his own betrayed him, returning to her once more.
He only noticed when an elderly man entered the shop, and the girl smiled at him—a smile that made Adam's chest tighten. A smile overflowing with reassurance, as if saying: I'm fine, despite everything.
Adam stood up, tense, as if the café had become suffocating. He grabbed his coat and pushed the door open into the rain.
His steps led him unconsciously past the flower shop. He could have ignored it, walked on, but he stopped.
Behind the glass, he saw her laugh softly, exchanging a few words with the customer. A laugh he had never heard before, yet it pierced his inner ear—the ear that no longer heard anything but the echo of his lost love.
He stepped away quickly, as if his heart were fleeing from a danger it couldn't face.
— "No… it's not for me to love again. I am nothing but a shadow of a man."
But fate was craftier than he was…
As he turned to avoid a puddle, he collided with a girl leaving the shop, carrying a small bouquet of flowers. Flustered, the bouquet slipped from her hands, scattering the roses.
He bent down quickly to gather them and raised his head to apologize… but froze in place.
It was her.
The girl in the wheelchair.
Closer than he had imagined, looking at him with a gentle smile, her eyes a mix of surprise and calm.
She spoke softly:
— "Thank you… I would have lost these flowers without you."
He handed her back the bouquet, his hand trembling slightly without him realizing it. He murmured awkwardly:
— "I'm sorry… I wasn't paying attention."
She nodded simply, then added with a faint smile:
— "It's okay… maybe fate wanted us to meet."
Her words struck him like an arrow. Fate? What irony was this?
He stared at her longer than he should, then turned away in quick steps, as if afraid to get involved in something his broken heart couldn't handle.
Yet… despite his escape, that smile remained etched in him. A smile he couldn't ignore.
That night, as he closed his eyes on his cold bed, he didn't see the face of his departed lover as usual… but the face of the girl in the wheelchair, holding a white rose.