That night, Seonhyuk couldn't sleep.
The bouquet Gabriella had given him sat in a jar by the window, its gentle scent filling the room. Outside, the moon cast a soft silver glow over the lavender fields, and the distant chirping of crickets became a lullaby he couldn't quite fall into.
He sat at the small desk, fingers brushing over the surface of his sketchbook. It had been months—maybe longer—since he last opened it. Every time he tried, the pages felt like reminders of everything he had lost: his passion, his heart, his reason to create.
But tonight felt different.
Gabriella's voice echoed in his memory—soft, sure, and full of life as she spoke about flowers and their meanings. He remembered her hands as they moved through the stems, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of healing and growth. Something about her had stirred the dust inside him.
His fingers trembled slightly as he flipped open the sketchbook.
Blank pages greeted him.
He picked up a pencil and hesitated, the tip hovering just above the paper. Then, without fully realizing why, his hand began to move. Slowly at first, then faster. Line after line, curve after curve.
A woman among flowers. A soft smile. Eyes filled with strength and sadness.
It was Gabriella.
He paused when the image was nearly done. The drawing wasn't perfect, but it felt real. It felt… alive.
And in that quiet moment, surrounded by lavender and silence, Kim Seonhyuk realized something he hadn't felt in a long time:
Hope.
Morning came softly, with golden light pouring in through the curtains. Seonhyuk sat at the desk, head resting against folded arms, the pencil still loosely in his hand. The sketch of Gabriella lay beneath him, the lines slightly smudged from where he'd drifted off, but it didn't matter.
He had drawn again.
It wasn't just about putting pencil to paper—it was about feeling again. Seeing again. Letting something inside him move, finally, after all those still months.
After a quick shower and a light breakfast, Seonhyuk slipped the drawing into a folder and tucked it carefully into his bag. He wasn't sure what made him bring it. Maybe a part of him wanted to show her. Or maybe he just wanted to carry proof that something in him had come back to life.
As he approached Gabriella's flower shop, he saw her outside, arranging pots of daisies and tulips in the morning sun. Her hair was tied up loosely, and her dress caught the breeze just right, making her look like a scene from a painting.
She looked up and smiled when she saw him. "You came early."
"I couldn't sleep," he replied. "Too many thoughts."
"Good ones, I hope," she said, dusting off her hands.
He hesitated, then reached into his bag and pulled out the sketch. "I drew this."
She took the paper carefully, her eyes widening slightly as she studied it. For a moment, she didn't say a word. Her fingers traced the edge of the image, as if it were fragile.
"This is… beautiful," she whispered.
He looked down, suddenly self-conscious. "It's the first thing I've drawn in a long time."
Gabriella looked at him, truly looked, and smiled—not just with her lips, but with something deeper. "Then I'm honored it was me."
For the first time in a long while, Seonhyuk didn't feel like a broken artist or a man running from his past. He felt seen. And in Gabriella's gaze, he found a reflection of the person he wanted to be again.