Clara wasn’t used to someone showing up for her.
People visited the shop, sure.
Regulars came, customers returned, friends dropped by.
But “showing up” was different.
Showing up meant presence.
Consistency.
Intention.
And Elias—with his quiet steps, his steady gaze, his habit of watching her like she was the one thing in the room that made sense—
he showed up.
Every day.
This morning was no different.
The bell chimed, and Clara didn’t even have to turn around to know it was him.
“Morning,” she said over her shoulder.
“Morning,” he answered—closer than she expected, already walking toward her station.
She lifted a brow. “You’re early.”
“You’re later.”
“I’m exactly on time.”
“I was here first.”
She laughed under her breath. “You win.”
He didn’t smile, but something in his shoulders eased, like her laugh settled him.
She returned to trimming stems for an arrangement when she realized something—
he was holding a cup.
She blinked. “Is that… coffee?”
“Yes.”
“For who?”
“You.”
Clara stared. “Elias, you don’t even drink coffee.”
“I know.”
She looked at the cup again. Warm. Fresh.
Her name spelled correctly on the lid.
“How long did you wait in line for this?”
“I didn’t check the time.”
“Elias—”
“Clara.”
His voice was calm, steady.
“I wanted to.”
Her chest tightened.
She took the cup slowly, unable to stop the smile forming on her lips.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once, watching her take the first sip like it was the most important part of his morning.
She swallowed, warmth spreading through her throat.
“It’s perfect,” she said.
“Good.”
He stood beside her, close enough that she could feel the faint heat of his arm.
Then—
“You have a customer,” he murmured.
She looked up. A young woman holding a small notebook was waiting near the counter.
“Oh—thanks.” Clara stepped away. “I’ll be right back.”
Elias stayed where he was, leaning lightly against the wall, hands in his pockets. But his eyes followed her movements, subtle but unmistakable.
Clara talked quietly with the customer, helping her choose lilies, explaining their care. She could feel Elias watching—not possessively, not intrusively.
Just… present.
When Clara finished ringing up the flowers, she turned back—and stopped.
Elias was holding a broom.
Clara blinked. “What are you doing?”
He looked down as if this were normal. “Sweeping.”
“Why?”
“There were leaves.”
“Yes, Elias, it’s a flower shop. There are always leaves.”
“Not anymore.”
She stared at him, torn between laughing and being dangerously charmed.
“…You’re unbelievable.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Yes.”
He paused. “That’s not an answer.”
“That’s exactly why it fits you.”
He tilted his head slightly, absorbing that.
She walked toward him, taking the broom gently from his hands.
“I appreciate it. But you don’t have to do things just because—”
“I want to.”
He said it again.
That same quiet truth.
Clara held his gaze.
“…Okay,” she whispered.
Elias didn’t look away.
He never looked away.
“Good,” he said softly. “Then I’ll keep doing them.”
The afternoon passed more quietly than usual.
Clara finished arranging a set of jars for an upcoming wedding order while Elias remained nearby—sometimes helping, sometimes simply existing in the same space. Both felt equally grounding.
At one point, she reached for a jar on the top shelf and stood on her toes. The glass wobbled.
Before it could tip, a hand steadied it.
His hand.
Clara froze.
“You scared me.”
“You should’ve asked me,” he said.
“I didn’t think it was that high.”
“You’re shorter than you think.”
She glared. “That’s rude.”
“That’s true.”
Clara couldn’t help it—she laughed.
Elias didn’t laugh back, but the corner of his mouth softened like her laughter tugged on something he couldn’t control.
She lowered the jar onto the counter, then looked up at him.
“You don’t have to keep saving things before they fall.”
“Yes,” he said quietly, “I do.”
Clara blinked.
He continued before she could respond.
“You reach for things without checking if they’re stable.”
His gaze flicked briefly to her hands.
“You do that with people, too.”
She stilled.
“That’s not a criticism,” he added.
“It’s just something I noticed.”
Clara swallowed. “Elias… you don’t have to watch me all the time.”
“I’m not watching you.”
He paused.
“I’m noticing you.”
Her breath trembled.
“And I want to,” he said.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Before she could recover, the door chimed again and a small rush of cold air filled the shop. A familiar voice followed.
“Clara? Oh—sorry, I didn’t know you had someone here.”
Clara turned.
Her cousin, Dana, bundled in a wool coat, stood near the door with a surprised expression.
“Dana! I didn’t expect you today.”
Dana’s gaze snapped between Clara and Elias.
“Oh. Oh. So *this* is the someone.”
Clara nearly died.
“Dana—”
“It’s okay,” Dana whispered loudly. “You don’t have to explain. I can feel the energy.”
Elias stood straighter. “Hello.”
Dana’s brows lifted at his voice. “Oh wow, he talks.”
Clara groaned.
Dana walked over, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clara’s cousin.”
Elias shook her hand politely. “Elias.”
Dana nodded approvingly. “Strong name. Fits the jawline.”
Clara: “DANA.”
Dana waved her off and leaned closer to Clara.
“Wow. Up close the energy is even stronger.”
“What energy?” Clara hissed.
Dana whispered, “The *we like each other but we’re still pretending to act normal* energy.”
Clara turned bright red.
Elias looked… confused.
But not displeased.
Dana finally stepped back. “Anyway, I came to pick up the dried lavender order.”
“Oh! Right—give me one second.”
Clara hurried to the back room.
Dana immediately turned to Elias.
“So.”
Her tone changed—light, but assessing.
“You like her?”
Elias met her eyes without a flicker of hesitation.
“Yes.”
Dana blinked. “Oh. Wow. Okay. Fast answer.”
“It wasn’t a hard question.”
Dana stared at him for a beat longer, then nodded.
“…I like you.”
When Clara returned with the lavender, Dana winked at her.
“Call me later,” she mouthed.
Then she left with a jingle of the bell.
Clara slowly faced Elias, cheeks burning.
“…I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“She’s very—”
“Observant.”
Clara blinked. “That’s one word for it.”
He stepped closer—just enough to draw her attention back to him.
“I meant what I told her,” he said softly.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I like you.”
Clara’s breath caught in her throat.
“…Oh.”
“Is that all you have to say?” Elias asked, voice low.
She stepped closer until their hands brushed—barely, but with intention.
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not.”
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