The next morning, sunlight spilled through the window of Seonhyuk's small rental room. It was modest—just a bed, a desk, and a wide window that overlooked endless rows of lavender fields. The scent drifted in with the morning breeze, wrapping around him like a gentle reminder: you're not in Seoul anymore.
With a cup of instant coffee in hand and a half-hearted yawn, Seonhyuk wandered through the sleepy streets of Namwon. He carried his sketchbook, though it still felt foreign in his hand, untouched for months. But something about the peaceful charm of the town called to him—softly, like a whisper from an old friend.
His feet eventually brought him to the riverbank, where petals floated lazily on the water's surface. Just beyond the curve of the stone path was a quaint little shop, its sign swaying gently in the breeze: "Gabriella's Blooms."
He paused outside, unsure if he should go in. But before he could decide, the door creaked open.
"You found it," Gabriella said, her voice touched with amusement.
"I wasn't looking for it," he admitted, a small smile forming.
"But you still found it," she replied, stepping aside to let him in.
Inside, the shop was filled with soft light and bursts of color—lavender, tulips, baby's breath, roses. The air was fresh, floral, and oddly comforting. Gabriella moved with ease among the blooms, trimming stems, arranging petals, her fingers steady and sure.
"I inherited this place from my aunt," she explained, sensing his curiosity. "She passed a few years ago. I left everything behind to come here."
Seonhyuk nodded, understanding more than she probably realized. "Sometimes leaving is the only way to return to yourself."
They stood in silence for a moment, two people from different worlds connected by invisible threads of past pain and quiet hope.
"Do you like flowers, Seonhyuk-ssi?" she asked suddenly.
"I never thought about it," he replied honestly. "But maybe… I'm starting to."
She smiled, setting down a freshly made bouquet. "Then let me show you which ones speak."
Gabriella guided him through the small, sunlit shop like it was her personal garden. Each flower had a story, a meaning—some romantic, some sorrowful, some full of quiet strength.
"This one," she said, holding up a peony, "means 'a bashful heart.' It's for the kind of love that grows in silence."
Seonhyuk studied it. "Then what does lavender mean?"
She turned toward the small table by the window, where a vase of fresh lavender stood. "Peace. Healing. Devotion."
His gaze lingered on the flowers, then on her. "Is that why you chose to live here? For peace?"
Gabriella's smile faded just slightly. "Yes. And because… I needed to remember what it felt like to grow. I lost someone close to me. Coming here was the only thing that felt right."
Her words hung in the air like a breeze before a storm. For the first time, Seonhyuk saw the flicker of pain behind her calm exterior—and he felt something stir inside him. Not just sympathy. Something deeper. A recognition.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know how that feels."
Their eyes met again, not as strangers, but as two people carrying different pieces of the same sadness.
"You don't talk much," Gabriella said, trying to lift the mood. "But when you do, it's honest."
"I've forgotten how to be anything else," he replied, a little surprised at his own vulnerability.
Gabriella walked behind the counter and pulled out a small, hand-tied bouquet. "Here," she said, offering it to him. "For your room. Maybe it'll help you feel at home."
He took it, holding the soft petals like something fragile. "Thank you."
And with that, he stepped out of the flower shop, bouquet in hand, unsure whether the warmth in his chest was from the sun, or something else entirely.