CALLUM'S POV
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It was raining.
Three hours on my back, staring at the ceiling, and going to bed still felt like a chore I'd never learned. Dr. Bloom made it sound easy. To regulate sleep, you need to regulate your thoughts. Sure. Meanwhile, the analogue clock on my desk flashed 9:47 p.m. Mocking me.
If I didn't force sleep soon, I'd lose the whole night.
Years of abusing sleeping pills had numbed them into candy.
My phone sat at the edge of the bed, taunting me with the option of texting Dr. Bloom. Pointless. He'd remind me not to mix pills with the wine I'd already had, or lecture me about breathing patterns. None of that stopped the barrage of thoughts or the rain.
A twitch ran through my fingers. Thunder always dragged me back. That night. The one mistake I kept reliving. The one I'd spent years wishing I could burn out of my memory.
"Not now," I muttered, like my mind ever listened.
"It's all my fault, if I had only listened that day…"
Another low thunderclap rolled across the sky. My chest tightened instantly. Sitting upright felt like a jolt. The closet was the closest escape, so I moved, tripping over a pillow on the way. A run. A run in the rain would help. Dr. Bloom said physical activity redirects spiralling thoughts.
Technically, I was following his instructions.
Minutes later, hoodie on, joggers clinging to my legs, earbuds shoved in, I left the penthouse. Rock music bled loud enough to numb everything.
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The rain thickened into sheets.
Twenty minutes in, my clothes were soaked, the cold biting into my bones, and every step reminded me of how stupid this idea was. Taffy would have cussed me out before reporting me to Dr. Bloom.
A crack of thunder split the air.
Air vanished. My lungs tightened fast, sharp, and unforgiving. Panic crawled under my skin, prickling hard enough to sting. The street blurred. Shapes bled into each other. A car horn wailed somewhere behind me, too loud, too sudden.
Shelter. I needed shelter before my mind tipped over the edge. Rain blurred everything, but the glowing sign above the door cut through the haze like a promise I didn't deserve. MY LOVE: Flower Shop. Looping gold letters on viridian, half-hidden behind wet glass. I chased the light.
Warmth swallowed me the second I stepped inside. Too much warmth. Heat clung to my drenched clothes, turning everything sticky and wrong. Breathing came in shallow pulls.
My hands wouldn't stay still. I felt out of place; it was too bright and warm when I required darkness, silence. Anything but this would've helped.
"Good evening, sir. Can I help you with something?"
My gaze dragged upward. An employee watched me with a soft smile that only made the tightness in my chest feel more humiliating.
"We close in fifteen minutes. If you'd like to order, the café is inside."
A nod was the most I could manage. Words felt dangerous. My breathing was still ragged. Apologizing internally for the water dripping off me, I moved deeper into the space. That was when the room hit me.
It was... a lot.
Flowers everywhere. Overhead Sakura branches. Walls crawling with vines. Pots and bouquets arranged like someone had choreographed them. Viridian walls. Gold trim. The entire room looked like someone bottled springtime, stuffed it in a blender, and let it explode.
Way too bright. Way too alive.
I wasn't built for this level of colour.
Or breathing, it seems, as my breath pinched again.
The café counter in the back was the only spot that didn't look like the backdrop for a wedding proposal. I headed toward it, clutching at whatever sense of order I could find.
My sister would love it here.
My espresso order scraped out of my throat. I pressed my palms together, grounding myself. Counting didn't help. The itch for a cigarette pulsed under my ribs. Not an option here.
Porcelain clicked on the counter.
"Thank you," I muttered, still staring at my hands. They wouldn't stop trembling. A smear of white dust on the barista's fingers caught my attention.
Flour? No—powdered sugar.
That wasn't there before...
Then I saw him.
A halo of golden hair, soft waves catching the light. And was that a flower crown... perched on his head?
A flower crown. On a grown man.
I swear I'm not judging, I'm just confused...
He slid a plate toward me. Croissants, warm enough for steam to ghost upward. They smelled buttery and soft and unfairly comforting.
"This..." My throat worked around the words. "I only ordered the coffee."
"You're our last customer," he said lightly. "It's on the house." His eyes flicked to mine.
The second thing I noticed immediately was blue eyes. Not soft blue. Electric, charged, impossible to ignore. Whoever he was, the universe had given him unfair saturation settings.
His smile was small, warm, almost startling in its sincerity. Something loosened in my chest. I couldn't remember the last time someone smiled at me like that. Or the last time I returned one.
I realized I was staring. Too obvious. Too late. When his brows dipped with a puzzled tilt to his head. "Is something on my face?"
My brain returned to my body with a jolt. "Yeah," I said, vaguely pointing to my chin. "Just... there."
A flush touched his cheeks. Somehow, that made him brighter. His smile widened. Like that was even humanly possible. He swiped at the spot with the back of his hand and, of course, he missed the spot completely.
For a heartbeat, something in my chest eased.
My fingers wrapped around the coffee cup. Heat seeped into my hands. Grounding, steadying."Thanks," I said quietly. He just nodded and went back to closing up, as if I hadn't short-circuited in front of him.
The rain rattled against the windows, softer now. I took a bite of the croissant. Warm. Flaky. Sweet. My eyes nearly closed reflexively.
A wave of comfort rushed through me so suddenly it embarrassed me.I finished the croissant too quickly, leaving only the half-empty cup. But for one fragile moment, breathing didn't hurt.
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10:27 p.m.
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The rain eased before I realized it.
The storm's angry hiss faded into a soft drizzle, tapping lightly against the windows like it was apologizing for earlier.
My coffee had gone lukewarm. The comfort lingering in my chest was fragile, thin, like a soap bubble I didn't want to breathe too hard on. I stood, stretching stiffness from my shoulders. The golden-haired guy was gone. No flower crown in sight. Just empty counters and the faint smell of sugar.
Figures. The moment I get my brain to stop screaming, he disappears.I pulled my hood up and headed for the door.
"Sir?" I turned.
It was the female employee from earlier. Long pink hair, soft face with a scattering of freckles along her cheeks, her name tag slightly crooked read Nora.
She held something out to me. A single stem of a flower.
I blinked. "Uh...?"
"A gift," she said, like this was normal. "From the boss."I looked at the flower again, half expecting it to vanish.
Yellow petals curled outward, they were packed and full of life, soft and faintly scented. I couldn't recognise the flower to save my life, but they almost matched the shade of the boss's hair.
I should have asked for his name.
My brain stalled. "For... what?" Nora just smiled, calm and annoyingly knowing. "They're Yellow Zinnias." I stared. That didn't clear anything up.
"My advice? Look up what they mean," she added. That made even less sense.
Still confused, my fingers closed around the stem before I had time to think. It was cool, smooth, and delicate. The complete opposite of the panic still settling under my ribs.
I glanced past her, toward the café floor. No golden hair. Not even a hint of movement. "He leaves early sometimes," Nora said, like she'd read the direction of my gaze.
"But you should come back." Her smile softened. Not pushy. Not pitying. Just gentle.
The kind of gentleness I didn't know what to do with.
I tucked the flower carefully into my palm. "Thanks."
She nodded and turned away, wiping down counters like she hadn't just handed me a small, confusing mystery wrapped in petals.
Outside, the drizzle kissed my hoodie as I stepped into the street. My phone buzzed, vibrating sharply against my leg. A message from Taffy lit the screen.
I'm coming over. We need to talk. Tonight.
The leftover warmth in my chest flickered.
Right.
I'd run from that conversation long enough.
I tightened my grip on the flower stem and kept walking.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
First chapter down... what do you think? ☁️⚡👀
Flower Fact:
Yellow Zinnia— "Daily Remembrance"
(In floriography it means "I remember you every single day"... even when I probably shouldn't.)
You'll understand why this flower is important later in the story.