The days blurred together, like strokes of watercolor that never quite dried.

Evermere, with its sharp winds and heavy skies, moved on as if nothing had changed. People still walked with their heads down, lost in their own worlds, pretending the city was too big for anyone to notice the cracks forming in their lives. 

Clara found herself passing by the flower shop every day, but the place no longer felt like home. The flowers were still there, their colors bright, but the air felt different. Heavier. There was no rush to rearrange the bouquets, no quick laughs with Marla as they decided on which flowers to display for the week. The shop had become an empty routine, a place where she filled the hours but didn’t quite exist.

Her heart had stopped asking questions, or at least, it had stopped expecting answers.

It had been a week since the accident. A week since Elias Vance had shown up at her doorstep, a little too composed for someone who had nearly died in a car crash. She hadn't seen him again. Not outside of the brief exchange at the accident scene, not in the street, not even near his office building.

But that didn’t mean she had forgotten. 

When she closed her eyes, she could still see his face—the way his expression had shifted just for a moment, his eyes following her like he was about to say something but stopped himself. She didn’t know why, but the memory had stayed with her. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could forget. Not when someone made you feel like they saw you without really looking.

Clara wasn’t sure if she had wanted him to return, but she found herself thinking about him more than she cared to admit. About how his presence, even in that brief moment of chaos, had felt almost grounding. As if something about him had the ability to stop her from floating away into the emptiness she’d always lived in.

The bell above the flower shop door jingled, and Clara’s thoughts scattered. She turned to find a familiar face standing at the counter.

“Morning,” Julian Hart said, his voice steady as always, his presence like a shadow in the quiet room.

Clara gave a small nod. “Morning, Julian. What can I get for you today?”

“I need something that says, ‘Sorry I’m late for the meeting.’”

She smiled, the first real smile in days. “I think I’ve got just the thing.”

But as she moved toward the back to prepare the flowers, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else—someone she wasn’t ready to see yet—was already waiting in the wings.

It wasn’t the end of the day, but something in the air told her that things were about to change.

Clara moved with an ease that only came from routine, selecting flowers with a practiced hand. Julian watched her, his sharp eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as though trying to catch something more than just the arrangement she was making.

But Clara didn’t notice. Her focus was on the delicate petals in her hands, the soft fragrance filling the air as she carefully placed them in a vase. She had mastered the art of pretending everything was fine, a skill she had perfected over the years. But beneath the surface, the unspoken words, the tension that hung in the space between her and the rest of the world, lingered like a thick fog.

“Clara,” Julian’s voice interrupted the quiet.

She looked up, blinking as if snapping out of a trance. His eyes were steady, searching, and she felt a sudden prickling on the back of her neck. “Yes?”

“You’ve been off lately.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but more as a statement, something he had already figured out. “You’re not your usual self.”

Clara forced a smile, setting the vase down on the counter. “Just tired, I guess. Been a long week.”

But Julian wasn’t convinced. He stepped closer, his presence filling the small space. “Is it just that?”

She didn’t respond immediately. For a brief second, the weight of the silence between them felt like it was too much to bear. She had never been good at hiding her feelings around Julian. He always seemed to know when something was off, even when she didn’t want him to.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he pressed, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Clara swallowed, her throat tight. She looked at him, trying to find the right words, but all she could do was shake her head slightly. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... everything feels a little... off.”

Julian studied her for a long moment before finally nodding, as though accepting her words at face value. “If you ever need someone to talk to...” He let the offer hang in the air, unfinished, but it was there, like an invitation wrapped in the weight of unspoken understanding.

“I’ll be fine,” Clara said, the words coming out before she had time to consider them. She picked up the vase again, turning it in her hands as though it could somehow steady her.

Julian seemed to sense that the conversation was over. He gave a slight nod and took a step back, his usual confidence returning to his posture. “Alright. Just don’t forget, you’re not alone.”

He left the shop without another word, and Clara stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorframe. His presence had been comforting in a way, but it hadn’t filled the emptiness she felt inside. The hole that had been left when Elias had walked away—when the world felt like it had shifted, and she wasn’t sure where her place was anymore.

The bell over the door jingled again, but this time, Clara didn’t turn. She knew who it was before the first step echoed in the quiet room.

Elias.

She felt his presence before she saw him. The air shifted, and the room grew heavier, as if the space between them had just expanded to something unspeakable.

She took a slow breath and finally turned to face him.

His gaze was fixed on her, intense and unreadable. For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence stretched, thick with things unsaid, like a conversation between two people who had yet to find the right words.

“Elias,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. She hadn’t expected him to come here. Not after the accident, not after everything.

He said nothing at first, just looked at her, the quiet between them thick with some invisible tension. Then, he took a step forward, closer to her than he had ever been before.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. It was the last thing Clara had expected him to say. 

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t speak. She just watched him, the weight of his apology hanging between them, like a door that was just waiting to be opened.

Elias didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he reached for the small vase of flowers on the counter, the one she had been working on earlier. His fingers brushed hers as he picked it up.

And for the first time, Clara couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

The moment felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to shift.

And then, with the softest touch, he placed the vase down between them, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“I don’t know why I came,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just... needed to see you.”

Clara couldn’t say anything. The words were stuck somewhere between her heart and her lips. And for once, that silence—heavy, suffocating—was all they had.