C4

The sun filtered in through the large glass windows of La Vie en Fleur, painting the wooden floors in delicate golden stripes. Fleur opened the shop earlier than usual, her body moving through familiar motions: setting the display buckets with fresh water, fluffing the roses that had started to tighten overnight, and checking the cooler temperature.

It was a soft kind of morning—the kind that smelled like eucalyptus and lavender, where nothing rushed and everything bloomed in its own time.

Miri was running late, but Dani was already there, humming off-key to a retro love song playing on the small speaker in the corner. Her ponytail bounced with every step as she arranged sunflowers in a large vase near the front window.

“You’re unusually cheery,” Fleur observed, tying a ribbon around a bouquet for a pickup order.

“I’m always cheery,” Dani said with mock offense. Then she turned to Fleur with a grin. “But maybe I’m... extra cheery today.”

Fleur raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Dani’s cheeks were already tinged pink.

The morning flowed with its usual rhythm—customers trickled in and out. A young man came in for peonies for his sister’s birthday. An older gentleman wanted “something that says sorry, but also that I meant what I said.” Fleur guided him toward soft pink lilies mixed with blue delphinium.

As Fleur wrapped up a bouquet for a new walk-in customer, the front door swung open with a crisp jingle. She didn’t look up immediately, but Dani did—and immediately dropped the pair of scissors she was using.

He was back.

The man with the salt-and-pepper stubble, ocean eyes, and the confident-but-not-arrogant swagger that had made Dani trip over her own feet the last time.

This time, he wasn’t here to cause a scene. He had a calm smile on his face and two paper cups of coffee in hand.

Fleur watched with amused curiosity as he approached the counter, but his gaze was fixed entirely on Dani.

“Good morning,” he said. “I figured florists deserve flowers too—but it’s a bit early for blooms, so I brought caffeine instead.”

Dani blinked. “Oh. Oh. That’s... wow, okay.”

Fleur pressed her lips together, pretending to be engrossed in her order slip.

He handed Dani a cup and said, “It’s just how you like it. Hazelnut syrup, extra foam.”

“You remembered?” Dani asked, looking bewildered.

“You said it out loud last time,” he replied casually. “I listen.”

That got a wide-eyed look from both Dani and Miri, who had just walked in, caught half the scene, and nearly ran into a display of tulips.

Fleur cleared her throat. “You’re back.”

The man turned to her politely. “Yes. I hope it’s alright. I’m not here for flowers today.”

“No drama today?” Miri asked, already grinning.

“Hopefully not,” he chuckled. “Unless me asking your lovely coworker to join me for dinner qualifies as drama.”

Dani made a sound that could only be described as a squeak.

“Dinner?” she echoed, visibly short-circuiting.

He nodded. “Tonight. There’s a little Italian place near the canal. Low stakes. If you’re free.”

Fleur and Miri were no longer even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I—uh—yes. I think I’m free,” Dani managed, blushing furiously.

“Great,” he smiled. “I’ll swing by at six?”

“Sure. Okay. Yeah. Six,” she repeated, nodding excessively.

“Perfect,” he said, giving a small nod to Fleur and Miri before heading back toward the door.

And then he was gone again—leaving behind the scent of roasted beans and the echo of Dani’s short-circuited breath.

Miri waited exactly five seconds after the door closed before launching into a squeal. “Dani. Dani. What was that?!”

Fleur was more amused than teasing, but her smile stretched wide. “Well, looks like our girl has a mystery date.”

“He brought coffee and remembered your order? I’m in love and I’m not even the one going.”

“I’m not even sure I said yes properly,” Dani said, dazed. “Did I say yes? I think I did. I—oh my God. What am I going to wear?”

Fleur laughed, heart lighter than it had been all morning. “You’ll look great in anything. But if you need help picking a dress, we’ll be here.”

“Yeah,” Miri added, already pulling out her phone. “We are going to nail this look. Makeup, shoes, hair—the works.”

Dani let out a nervous but delighted laugh. “I didn’t think he’d actually come back.”

Fleur reached for her bouquet and smiled down at the blooms in her hand. “Sometimes, people surprise you.”

And with that, the flower shop buzzed anew—not just with the scent of petals and the shuffle of customers, but with the soft hum of something else entirely. Something hopeful.

Casimiro stepped out of the office building and adjusted the cuff of his shirt as his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. He smiled when he saw the name on the screen: Bea.

He leaned against a lamppost, letting the late morning sun warm his back before answering.

“Beatriz,” he said in his smooth, amused tone. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“You still call me that like it’s an old-school insult,” his sister’s voice came through, light with sarcasm. “It’s Bea, and you know it.”

Casimiro chuckled. “You’re still bossy.”

“And you’re still five minutes late calling me back.”

“I was working,” he said. “Actual working. You know, the thing that keeps this company alive.”

“You always say that like you’re digging trenches. You literally own the company.”

“Even emperors need to check invoices,” he replied dryly.

Bea laughed, the sound crackling through the speaker like static sunshine. “Fine, I’ll allow it. But tell me—have you gotten the flowers for Nina yet?”

“I’m going now. La Vie en Fleur, remember?”

“Of course I remember. Nya won’t stop talking about their wildflower arrangements.”

Casimiro began walking toward his car. “She’s subtle like that.”

“Subtle? She sent me three Pinterest boards and an itemized list of flower types. That girl is twenty-seven going on event planner.”

Casimiro smiled softly, the affection in his voice unmistakable. “She’s excited.”

“She adores you, that’s why. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he said quietly.

There was a pause on Bea’s end, then her voice returned, gentler this time. “You do a good job with her. More than a good job. I don’t say it enough, but I see it.”

Casimiro let out a breath. “Thanks. That means more than you think.”

“You don’t have to overcompensate though. You’re already her boyfriend, not her dad.”

“I’m the only one she’s got now,” he said. “I don’t want her feeling that absence.”

Bea didn’t answer for a moment, and then she said, “You’ve always carried everything on your back. But maybe let yourself breathe a little. You don’t have to be perfect.”

“I’m not trying to be perfect,” Casimiro replied. “Just... present.”

“Fine, saint,” Bea teased. “Now go get those flowers before she accuses you of forgetting.”

Casimiro chuckled. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Of course I am.”

He ended the call with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, then turned the car toward La Vie en Fleur.

Back at the shop, Fleur was checking the afternoon inventory when the bell above the door chimed again. She glanced up out of habit, expecting another regular customer or maybe a delivery mix-up.

But there he was. Casimiro Pagnotto.

A man of quiet command, dressed in that effortless way expensive suits seemed to hang better on certain people. He had kind eyes, the type that studied without intimidating, and a presence that made the shop feel smaller somehow.

Fleur straightened but said nothing, glancing toward Dani, who was still floating on her own romantic cloud and clearly not paying attention.

Casimiro stepped up to the counter and offered a polite nod. “Good afternoon. I’m here to pick up an order for Nina Dupont.”

Fleur recognized the name. She’d seen it in their log of recurring customers—wildflower arrangements, once a month, always prepaid.

“Yes, just a moment,” she said, moving to the back cooler. She returned with a bright bouquet, vibrant and colorful, wrapped in soft cream paper with a deep green ribbon.

“She has excellent taste,” Fleur added, placing it gently on the counter.

Casimiro’s lips curved upward. “She does. She’s impossible to impress and very precise with what she likes. That bouquet will keep me in her good books for maybe... twelve hours.”

Fleur smiled. “Twelve’s generous.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and genuine. “You might be right.”

As she rang up the order, he glanced around the shop—subtly, like someone used to studying rooms without looking like he was. His eyes flicked over the eucalyptus hanging near the back wall, the windowsill violets, the lavender-scented counter display. Then back to her.

“You’ve kept the shop beautiful,” he said, not meaning it as flattery. It felt like an observation. A quiet kind of respect.

Fleur nodded. “We try.”

When he left, Fleur returned to her clipboard and the list of restocks, but her mind lingered—on the softness of his voice when he mentioned his girlfriend. On the way he paid attention to everything. On how he seemed to be a man full of control but never in a rush.

She shook her head and turned back to the cooler. Admiration was fine. It was harmless. Especially when the man in question was clearly spoken for... in the most devoted kind of way.

Still, when Miri walked in minutes later, Fleur was staring just a bit too long at the bouquet Casimiro had picked up.

“Okay, why do you look like you’re in a French perfume commercial?” Miri asked. “What did I miss?”

Fleur blinked. “Nothing. Just... flowers.”

Miri narrowed her eyes. “Flowers don’t make you blush, babe. Spill.”

Fleur just shook her head and went back to trimming the carnations.

Miri grinned, already sensing a story in the air—even if Fleur refused to say it aloud yet.