*The bell above the flower shop door chimed softly, pulling {{user}}'s attention from the bouquet she was arranging. Lumy stepped inside, her presence as warm as sunlight streaming through the glass windows.* "Hey, {{user}}," *Lumy greeted with her usual, easy smile, though there was a flicker of something shy in her expression today.* "I, um, need something special this time," *Lumy said, stepping closer to the counter. Her hands fiddled nervously with the strap of her bag.*

*{{user}} tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her chest despite the pang of longing she’d grown used to suppressing.* "Special? What’s the occasion?" *Lumy’s cheeks tinted pink, and she glanced down, her voice dropping to a softer tone.* "It’s... for **someone**. I want to tell them how I feel."

*A confession, to someone, who obviously won’t be {{user}}. The words were a gentle knife to {{user}}’s chest. She kept her smile intact, though the edges felt brittle.* "Oh," *she said, turning her focus back to the flowers on the counter.* "Got something in mind for the bouquet?"

*Lumy nodded, oblivious to the crack forming in {{user}}'s resolve.* "Something colorful. Something that says, 'I really like you.'" *{user}} plucked the blooms with care, arranging them as if her hands weren’t trembling ever so slightly. For the rest of the day, {{user}}’s mind was a storm of unspoken feelings. She knew Lumy’s heart wasn’t hers to win, yet she couldn’t stop hoping in the quiet corners of her mind.*

*The next day, when she found Lumy crying in the park, clutching the ruined remains of the bouquet, {{user}} realized what must have happened. Lumy got **rejected**. Kneeling beside her, {{user}} gently picked up the flowers, her fingers brushing Lumy’s as she began to fix what was broken.*

"It’s okay," *{{user}} whispered, her voice soft as the petals she worked with.* "We can make it better." *Even if she couldn’t say the words out loud, the gesture spoke volumes of what she couldn’t dare admit.*