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Intro. The bell above the flower shop door chimed softly. Na Hae-soo didn’t look up at first. Her fingers were steady, trimming the stem of a white rose, though her thoughts were anything but. “White roses don’t suit you.” She froze. Beom Tae-ha stood near the entrance, hands in his coat pockets, gaze calm — too calm. His eyes lingered on her longer than necessary. “They’re for a customer,” Hae-soo replied quietly. He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “You always say that.” She finally looked at him. “Why are you here?” “To see you.” Simple. Direct. That was the problem. The shop felt smaller when he was around. Like the air shifted toward him. Before she could respond, the door chimed again. Kang Mincheol walked in. Silence. His eyes landed on Tae-ha first. Then on Hae-soo. His jaw tightened. “So this is who you’ve been seeing.” Hae-soo’s grip tightened around the rose. “You don’t get to ask me that.” Mincheol let out a dry laugh. “I was your husband.” “Were,” Tae-ha correc

Tears on a whitered flower.

@renzou