RED ROSE

CHAPTER 11

I woke to the faint light spilling through the thin curtains of my room on the floor above the shop. The dream clung stubbornly to my mind, stubborn and vivid. Roses everywhere, their petals deep red and impossibly soft, filling the air with a scent that was both intoxicating and unsettling. And hands—hands that didn’t belong to anyone I knew—hovered over the petals, adjusting them, holding them, as if they belonged to someone from another time.

I rubbed at my eyes, trying to shake the lingering feeling of the dream, but it followed me stubbornly like a shadow. The sound of water boiling downstairs reminded me that Yuri and Kento were already awake, preparing breakfast in the small kitchen that shared space with the living area above the shop. Living here had its quiet comforts—the shop below was always alive, and I could hear the soft shuffling of flowers being watered or arranged. But this morning, the usual sounds only amplified my restlessness.

“You’re up early,” Yuri said cheerfully as she appeared at the doorway, carrying a tray with a cup of green tea. Her smile was bright, but I couldn’t return it fully.

“I had a strange dream,” I admitted, sitting on the edge of the futon. “It… felt like someone else’s hands were among the roses.”

She raised an eyebrow, setting the tray down on the small table. “Hmm. That sounds unsettling. Or maybe romantic. Which one?”

“Unsettling,” I said quickly, though the flush rising to my cheeks made me wonder if it was more than that. “I can’t explain it. I just remember the feeling of being watched, or guided, by someone I don’t know.”

Kento appeared behind her, carrying a small crate of supplies for the shop. “You’re overthinking it. Dreams like that are just your mind making patterns from your waking thoughts. Or maybe it’s him,” he said with a teasing grin. “Yuya, I mean.”

I frowned. “Yuya?”

Yuri laughed softly. “The handsome man who orders all the red roses. Of course. You’ve been thinking about him more than you realize.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s not like that. But… the dream felt real.”

By the time we finished breakfast, I could not dismiss the lingering tension from sleep. I moved downstairs to open the shop, the familiar scent of soil, fresh flowers, and wooden floors greeting me. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from the previous night. I arranged the tulips and lilies with calm precision, though my thoughts kept drifting to the dream and the presence of hands that felt both gentle and foreign.

The bell above the door chimed, and I glanced up. Yuya stepped inside, as handsome and composed as always, carrying his quiet calm like a presence that filled the room without sound. I felt the familiar pull of awareness—subtle, grounding, but impossible to ignore.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice soft and steady.

“Morning,” I replied, setting down the vase I had been adjusting. “You’re early.”

He walked directly to the counter, eyes scanning the rows of red roses. “I’m here to place the usual order,” he said simply. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. The action itself seemed natural, as if he had been here a thousand times before, as if the roses and the shop were extensions of his rhythm in the city.

I nodded, moving to prepare the order. “Right. The usual amount of red roses.”

He selected several bouquets with deliberate care, handling each stem gently, his gaze steady and thoughtful. There was a presence about him that made the air feel warmer, more charged, though it was quiet and contained, never overwhelming.

“You’ve been busy with the shop?” he asked, breaking the silence as I prepared the invoices.

“Yes. It’s been a bit hectic lately. Suppliers, bills… the usual struggle,” I replied, glancing briefly at him. “But manageable.”

He tilted his head slightly, observing. “You manage more than most would notice. There’s intention in the way you work. It doesn’t go unseen, even if it feels ordinary to you.”

I hesitated, caught off guard. “I… thank you. I don’t often hear that.”

Yuya smiled faintly, handsome and calm. “It matters. Attention and care are rare, even in small tasks. They leave traces.”

The air felt heavier in the quiet pause that followed, filled with an unspoken understanding. I realized once again how easily he affected me, how his calm presence seemed to magnify thoughts and feelings I normally kept tucked away.

“Will these flowers be delivered today?” I asked, folding the invoices.

“Yes,” he replied simply, placing the payment on the counter. “As usual. I want them to reach the recipient in the morning.”

I felt a small knot of curiosity. “You always come personally. Do you ever let anyone else choose for you?”

“No,” he said immediately, calm and resolute. “Red roses are specific. Their meaning must be preserved. I trust the hands I choose to handle them.”

I nodded, accepting the explanation. He had always treated the roses with reverence, as if they carried stories beyond the shop, beyond the petals.

Kento appeared at the doorway of the shop’s back room. “Yuki, are you doing alright? You seem… distracted this morning.”

“I had a dream,” I admitted, glancing at him. “And it’s lingering. Nothing serious, just… unsettling.”

Kento smirked. “Well, that’s what happens when someone visits so often and leaves a mark without even trying. You’re not imagining it. He does that.”

Yuri joined us from the staircase, hands on her hips. “You live with us, Yuki, and he lives in your mind rent-free. Classic.”

I shook my head, a small laugh escaping me despite the lingering unease. “I can’t explain it. The dream felt… alive. And then seeing him this morning, ordering the roses, it brought the feeling back.”

Yuya glanced at us briefly, still standing near the counter, calm and poised. “I apologize for the intrusion. I will be brief. I only require the order.”

“You’re not intruding,” I said quickly, aware of how my pulse had shifted. “It’s… good to have you here.”

He inclined his head. “I’m glad.” His presence was effortless, the kind of calm that filled the space without needing words.

I stepped back, folding my hands, trying to focus on the logistics of the order. But my mind was restless, replaying the dream, the subtle warmth of his presence, and the quiet way he moved among the roses. Even as I counted stems and checked the bouquet sizes, the memory of the dream lingered like a shadow, weaving itself into my thoughts and reflections.

Finally, Yuya gathered the bundles and prepared to leave. “Thank you,” he said quietly, placing a hand on the counter for balance. “I appreciate your attention, Yuki.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, holding his gaze for a brief moment longer than usual. “See you soon.”

He smiled faintly, handsome and calm, then stepped toward the door. The bell chimed softly as he exited, and the quiet of the shop returned.

I sank into the nearest chair, hands resting on my knees. The dream, his presence, and the calm authority in his voice mingled into a swirl of emotion that I could not name. It was unsettling and familiar, strange and grounding at the same time.

Kento leaned against the doorway. “You’re going to spend all day thinking about him, aren’t you?”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Perhaps. But there’s something different today. The dream… it lingers more than usual.”

Yuri placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dreams like that often carry messages we don’t immediately recognize. Perhaps you’ll understand it in time.”

I nodded slowly, looking toward the rows of red roses lining the counter. They seemed brighter in the morning light, alive in a way that mirrored the restless thoughts in my mind. The shop felt warm, occupied by the familiar, yet threaded with the quiet tension of someone unseen leaving a mark.

I realized then that the dream, the hands, and the presence of Yuya were intertwined, leaving impressions that would not fade easily. I could not name what I felt exactly, but I knew it was real, tangible in its subtle persistence.

As I prepared for the next customer, I whispered to myself, “Tomorrow, perhaps I’ll understand a little more.” The thought settled, faint but certain, carrying with it the quiet anticipation of moments yet to come.

The morning light spilled across the wooden floors, the roses standing in soft defiance of the day. And for the first time, I felt that the quiet presence of someone else, mysterious and handsome, had changed the rhythm of my space, leaving traces in the most human, unspoken ways.