He was a florist who sold beauty to the world but never took a single flower home — until one quiet morning when a lone daisy lay on his doorstep. He brought it inside, spoke to it, and prayed it would live.The next day, she appeared — a girl with sunlight in her hair and that same daisy tucked behind her ear. She kept returning, first as a customer, then as a companion. They never confessed love, but it bloomed quietly in stolen moments and shared silences.One evening, she stepped outside to feel the night air… and never returned the same. A sudden car accident stole her away, leaving him shattered.A year and a half later, a letter from the hospital led him back — to her. Alive. The truth: a mistaken report. But she remembered nothing of him.He tried to bring back their story, yet every memory slipped through her grasp. Still, he stayed, because love was not about being remembered — it was about not forgetting.Perhaps love will find its way back to them… or perhaps they will wander forever in each other’s shadow, like a daisy that never truly dies, yet never fully dares to bloom again.