Elias didn’t sleep well that night.
He wasn’t restless—not exactly. It was more like his mind refused to return to its usual stillness. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the faint curve of Clara’s smile, the warmth in her voice when she said goodnight, the soft way the light in her hallway framed her silhouette as she disappeared behind the door.
It wasn’t haunting.
It was grounding.
And that was almost more dangerous.
By morning, he had convinced himself he could fold everything back into order. He shaved, dressed, tied his tie with mechanical precision. The rosemary sprig sat on his desk, casting a quiet scent through the office, as if it had claimed its place.
He told himself it didn’t matter.
He told himself it was just a gesture.
He told himself—
The elevator doors slid open.
Julian Hart stepped inside, glancing briefly at Elias before smirking. “You look… different.”
Elias stiffened slightly. “Different how?”
“Mm.” Julian pressed the elevator button with theatrical deliberation. “Like someone who got sleep but not rest.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, it means a lot.”
Elias shot him a look, but Julian only chuckled, adjusting his cufflinks.
“You’re meeting the board today,” Julian reminded him. “You sure you’re focused?”
“I’m focused.”
Julian raised a brow. “Focused on work or on—”
“Julian.”
“Fine, fine.” He lifted his hands in surrender. “No questions. Not today.”
But the glint in Julian’s eyes said he knew something had shifted.
When they reached the lobby, Elias walked ahead without waiting for him. The morning air outside was crisp, sharp enough to steady him. He crossed the plaza toward the car waiting to take them to the meeting—efficient, predictable, exactly the life he knew.
But just as his hand reached for the door, his phone buzzed.
A message.
From an unfamiliar number.
But the signature at the end wasn’t unfamiliar.
**— Morning.
I hope today isn’t too heavy.
— C**
Elias stared at the screen longer than he meant to.
The morning felt different.
The air felt warmer.
And for the first time in a long time—
He felt seen.
The board meeting ended with polite nods and firm handshakes, but Elias could feel Julian’s eyes on him the entire time. Not because he had performed poorly—he hadn’t. If anything, his focus was sharper than usual, his answers crisp, his strategies clearer.
But something in him had shifted.
He no longer felt confined to the conference room.
He no longer felt like the walls defined the edges of his world.
The message in his pocket—eight simple words—carried more warmth than anything said around the boardroom table.
When the meeting adjourned, Julian walked beside him, hands tucked into his coat pockets.
“You were different today,” Julian said.
“In what way?”
“Grounded.” Julian narrowed his eyes. “And that wasn’t work.”
Elias didn’t respond.
They stepped outside into the afternoon cold. The sky was washed in a pale winter blue, the kind that made everything look sharper. Elias inhaled slowly, letting the air settle in his lungs.
He checked his phone again.
No new messages.
But the old one was enough.
“What are you doing tonight?” Julian asked casually.
“Going home.”
“That’s new.”
Elias shot him a look. “Is it?”
“Yes,” Julian said bluntly. “You don’t go home. You go to whatever needs fixing.”
Elias didn’t argue because it was true.
But tonight felt different.
Tonight, he wasn’t looking for something to fix.
He was looking for something else entirely.
By the time he reached the plaza outside his building, the sky had deepened to a quiet gray. People rushed past him—coats bundled, breaths turning white. He walked slower than usual, absorbing details he normally ignored.
A florist cart stood near the fountain, the vendor packing up for the day. The scent of eucalyptus drifted through the air, crisp and green. A bundle of pale roses sat off to the side, tied loosely with twine, almost forgotten.
He didn’t plan to stop.
But he did.
His fingers brushed the roses before he realized what he was doing.
“For someone special?” the vendor asked lightly.
Elias hesitated.
“Yes,” he said finally.
The word felt strange.
Vulnerable.
True.
The vendor smiled. “Good choice.”
He took the roses and began walking again. The city lights flickered on one by one as dusk settled, painting the street in muted golds and soft shadows. His steps grew steadier the closer he got to *Wren & Bloom*.
But when he turned the corner—
The shop was already dark.
A sign on the door read:
*Closed early today.*
His breath paused.
Disappointment washed through him—unexpected, sharp—but before it fully settled, he noticed a faint glow from the side alley.
A figure.
Clara.
She was locking up the side gate, her scarf loose around her neck, hair tucked behind one ear. She turned at the sound of his steps, eyes widening slightly.
“Elias?”
He didn’t speak for a moment.
He simply held out the roses.
Her breath caught.
“Are those…?”
“They’re for you.”
Clara blinked once. Then again. Her cheeks flushed faintly in the cold.
“Why?”
He swallowed, the answer simple in a way that terrified him.
“Because I wanted to.”
Her fingers brushed his as she took the roses.
And when she smiled—
the last pieces of the day fell into place.
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