Between the Lines

Agatha parked her sleek, charcoal gray car at the edge of the circular driveway in front of the Vidal estate. The engine purred into silence as she reached for her leather binder on the passenger seat, pausing briefly to gather her thoughts, taking in a heavy breath. She had been to the estate several times now, but it still gave her this unnerving feeling. It was a sensation she was not typically used to. Stepping up to the sprawling white stone mansion with its soaring columns and manicured gardens, Agatha felt an oppressive weight creep over her chest.

Today, the sky was overcast, the muted light softening the estate’s sharp edges. Agatha adjusted her blazer, stepping out of the car with purpose and straightening her back. The sound of her eggplant toned heels clicking against the cobblestones echoed in the still air as she approached the front doors, which opened smoothly before she even had to knock.

“Ms. Harkness,” the housekeeper greeted her with a polite nod, stepping aside to let her in. “Ms. Vidal is waiting for you in the drawing room. There is tea and hors d’oeuvres for both of you.”

“Thank you,” Agatha replied, her tone clipped but courteous. She followed the familiar path through the grand foyer, her eyes flicking briefly to the chandelier above and the gilded mirror that reflected the opulence of the space, her eyes focusing on the reflection briefly. She was used to wealth, but the Vidals had a way of making it feel particularly performative. Stepping into the home felt like stepping into a Renaissance painting and Agatha never felt more out of place. She could only imagine how Rio must feel here every day. 

As she stepped into the drawing room, she immediately spotted Rio seated on the velvet sofa by the floor to ceiling windows. The morning light poured in, illuminating the room’s muted greens and golds, casting a soft glow around Rio who sat with one leg tucked beneath her and a teacup cradled in her hands. Her shoes were kicked off beside her on the floor, half-hazardous and unlike any of the wealthy brides she had experienced before. She looked relaxed, though her gaze was distant, as if she were somewhere else entirely.

“Good morning, Rio,” Agatha finally spoke, her voice measured as she approached the coffee table and set down her binder. Her eyes flicker to the tea in Rio’s hands, noticing the purple florals floating in the cup. 

Rio looked up, her expression softening as she met Agatha’s gaze. “Good morning,” she replied, her voice warm but quiet. She glances towards Agatha’s eggplant heels and purple blazer, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was a smile that made Agatha feel as if Rio was noticing something about her that most would look over. Rio gestured to the seat across from her. “Please, sit.”

Agatha sank gracefully into the chair, smoothing her skirt as she opened her binder. “I thought we could review a few things today,” she began, her tone professional but not unkind. Her eyes never leave the thick binder. However, Rio quickly chimes in, cutting Agatha off. 

“Tea? It’s my favorite, lavender with honey. Local honey, might I add.” Rio offers but before Agatha can accept or decline, Rio is already pouring her a cup and garnishing it in the same purple florals Agatha noticed earlier. Agatha quickly picked up on the fact that this was a nervous way of deflecting the real conversation at hand- the wedding. Interesting. 

“Oh, uh, yes.. thank you.” Agatha says as she takes the tea cup and shifts a bit on the sofa, looking at the other woman and studying her anxious body language  and forced smile before clearing her throat. “Well, anyway, I’ve brought some generic sketches which I thought might help spark some ideas for the rest of the decor. I’d like to play off your wedding dress, perhaps? Sometimes, starting with something personal that reflects you can bring clarity to the bigger picture.”

Rio’s brow furrowed slightly as she set her teacup down on the side table and twisted her hands together. “The dress?”

“Yes,” Agatha said, offering a small smile, looking back down at her multiple sketches and failing to see the nervous emotions crossing Rio’s face after that statement. “It’s often the centerpiece of the entire event. Everything else, like the flowers, the lighting, the color scheme.. it can all be inspired by the mood and style of the dress.” Agatha says, hands filtering through sketch after sketch with a small smile on her face. 

That is, until she looks up and is met with Rio’s conflicted deep brown eyes. They were eyes she felt she could sink into for hours if she were allowed. Within them was so much depth, so much left to be discovered. Agatha had to remind herself that Rio was simply a client. Her eyes and what was behind them was none of her business. Unless it concerned the wedding, that is. Shifting uncomfortably, she straightens her back and looks to Rio with concern. “Have you not given it much thought? The dress…?” 

Rio tilted her head, her fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve. “Not really,” she admitted after a pause. “I mean… I haven’t decided anything yet.”

Agatha’s practiced smile faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure. “That’s perfectly fine,” she said smoothly, though her sharp mind was already trying to piece together Rio’s hesitation and clear disinterest in her own wedding. “There is still time to finalize things. Have you been dress shopping yet at all? Even just to get a sense of what you like?”

Rio hesitated, her gaze dropping to the coffee table as though the sketches themselves might provide an answer. “No,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment. “I haven’t gone yet.”

Agatha blinked, surprised. She prided herself on her ability to anticipate her clients’ needs, but this revelation caught her off guard. “You haven’t gone dress shopping?” she repeated, her tone professional but tinged with disbelief. “Not even once?”

Rio shook her head, her fingers now fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “I haven’t had the time,” she murmurs, though her voice lacks conviction. “There has been so much to do and much on my mind and- well, I don’t know. It hasn’t been my top priority. Is that.. bad?”

Agatha leaned back slightly, studying Rio with a critical but not unkind eye. She had worked with all kinds of brides over the years. From the overzealous to the indifferent, but Rio’s apparent detachment was something else entirely. It wasn’t laziness or apathy. It was uncertainty, maybe even resistance.

“Rio,” Agatha said carefully, her voice softening, “the dress is one of the most personal elements of the wedding. It is not just about how it looks; it’s about how it makes you feel. You want to feel extraordinary, yes?” 

Agatha fights the urge to voice her concerns with Rio’s aloofness but decides it’s a poor idea. With a bitten tongue, she acknowledges that it is none of her concern. 

Rio’s lips pressed into a faint line, and she looked away, her gaze drifting toward the window. “I guess I just- I’ve… felt a bit detached to it all.” she said after a long pause, her voice quiet but laden with meaning.

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw, and Agatha felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. She had seen brides buckle under the weight of family expectations before, but there was something about the way Rio said it so quietly, so hesitantly, that made it feel deeply personal.

“What do you mean by that?” Agatha asked gently, offering Rio more than enough time to open up if she pleases. She did not want to come off as overbearing or nosy by any means but she did open a door.

Rio let out a soft, brittle laugh, her eyes still fixed outside the window. “I mean… everything feels like it is already decided. The venue, the guest list, the date…”

The groom…

 She shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at her lips, like she stopped herself before she could say aloud something she would later regret. “It is as though I am a guest to my very own wedding.”

Agatha’s chest tightened, her usual veneer of professionalism slipping just slightly. She leaned forward, her gaze steady. “If it doesn’t feel like your wedding, then it’s time we change that. Starting with the dress.”

Rio turned to her, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Agatha’s lips curved into a small, determined smile. “I mean, you and I are going dress shopping. In person. No sketches, no samples- just you, me, and a boutique filled with possibilities. Sometimes, brides immediately know what they want. Other times, you need to see yourself in something to know what you truly want. That is okay too.”

Rio blinked, clearly taken aback. “You… want to come with me? Your job isn’t to play dress up with me. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.” She looks down, running her finger along the rim of her tea. A nervous habit, Agatha’s words sinking in. 

“Of course,” Agatha replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. If you’re unsure where to start, that is what I am here for. Most brides I work with have already picked out a dress. Some even have multiple they change into for different parts of the ceremony. However, not having your dress yet is not an issue and I’m more than happy to help you find the one that brings this all together for you.”

Rio studied her for a long moment, something soft and unspoken passing between them. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“That’s why we’ll figure it out together,” Agatha said, standing and closing her binder with a decisive snap. “Trust me, Rio. Once we find the right dress, everything else will start to fall into place. Okay?” 

Rio’s faint smile deepened, and for the first time that morning, she looked almost at ease. “Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s do it then… find the dress.”

As Agatha gathered her things and prepared to leave, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just another task on her to-do list. This was not just about finding a dress; it was about helping Rio find herself. And for reasons she could not quite name, that felt more important than anything else.

The boutique fitting room was quiet except for the soft rustle of fabric as Rio slipped into yet another gown. Agatha waited just outside the fitting room, perched on the edge of a plush velvet chair, her sharp eyes flickering over her planner before darting toward the gapped door Rio was getting changed behind. The lighting in the boutique was soft and golden, and the faint scent of roses from a nearby arrangement hung in the air.

Rio’s voice came through the door, uncertain. “I’m not sure about this one.”

“Well, go on. Step out and let me see.” Agatha said, standing instinctively. Her voice was calm but firm, an unspoken reassurance that nothing could rattle her.

The door creaked open, and Rio stepped out. The gown she wore was nothing like the others had been. This gown was sleek and simple, with a high neckline and a daringly low back. It was sexy without being too bold and attention seeking. The soft ivory fabric clung to her in a way that was both modest and tantalizing, revealing just enough to make Agatha’s breath hitch. Although, she quickly masked it, clearing her throat.

Rio stood in front of the mirror, her fingers nervously brushing over the smooth, fitted fabric at her waist. “What do you think?” she asked, her voice hesitant. She avoided her own reflection, her gaze instead darting toward Agatha.

Agatha stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She took her time, her sharp eyes trailing over every detail of the gown, every curve of Rio’s body and every perfect seam. “It’s…” She hesitated, which was rare for her. “It’s stunning.”

Rio finally looked at herself in the mirror, her brow furrowing slightly. “You’re just saying that.”

“I do not just say things,” Agatha replied, her voice lower now. “I mean it. Look at yourself, Rio. Really look. You’re lovely.”

Rio’s eyes darted to Agatha’s in the mirror instead of looking back at herself, following where Agatha’s gaze traveled and noting the way Agatha subtly chewed on her lower lip. Their gazes then meet in the mirror and, for a moment, the air between them felt electric. Agatha’s heart thudded in her chest, and she hated the way she had to force herself to look away from Rio’s eyes, clearing her throat again as if to break the spell.

Agatha gestured toward the open back of the dress, stepping closer, so close that Rio could feel the warmth of her presence. “The way it frames your shoulders… it is elegant. Effortless.” Her voice softened, the words almost slipping out without her permission as well as her hand that ever-so-gently slides to Rio’s bare shoulder. “It’s… you.”

Rio turned slightly, her eyes flicking to Agatha over her shoulder and her pupils clearly dilated. “You think so?”

Agatha’s lips parted as if to answer, but she found herself unable to speak. The tension between them was thick, almost suffocating. The boutique, once so spacious, now felt unbearably close. Agatha notices Rio’s eyes drop to her lips as she’s still looking at Agatha over her shoulder. Their faces were incredibly close. Swallowing hard, Agatha steps back to regain her composure.

“I think,” Agatha said finally, her voice steadier, “that this dress could make anyone fall in love with you.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than she intended, and Rio’s cheeks flushed almost immediately. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, the moment stretching unbearably as she found her words. “Then this is the one.” 

 Getting back into Agatha’s car, they head over to the floral shop in town and parallel park in front of the store. The floral shop was a feast for the senses. Soft natural light streamed through the wide glass windows, illuminating the bursts of color from every corner. The air was rich with the mingling scents of roses, lilacs, and eucalyptus. Agatha stood near the entrance, clipboard in hand, her professional demeanor firmly in place. Although her eyes followed Rio as she drifted through the displays like she was moving through a dream.

Agatha cleared her throat. “Here, let's begin with classic themes and go from there. It is always easier to narrow down when you have a baseline.”

Rio nodded, stopping in front of a lush arrangement of white roses and baby’s breath. “This feels… traditional,” she said, tilting her head.

“It is,” Agatha replied, stepping closer and looking down at the arrangement. “A symbol of purity, timelessness, elegance, and love. This theme is often paired with soft pastels like blush, peach, pale blue. Perfect for a garden ceremony or a grand estate like yours.”

Rio reached out to touch one of the petals, her fingers delicate. “It’s beautiful, but it feels too… distant. Too much like something my aunt would choose.”

Agatha allowed herself a small smile. “Fair enough. Let’s explore something a little bolder, shall we?” She suggested and continued walking through the florist shop, guiding Rio along.

They moved to the next section, where deep red and burgundy roses mixed with black dahlias and dramatic greenery. Agatha gestured toward the display. “Romantic and moody. This palette is for evening weddings, candlelit receptions. It evokes passion and intimacy.”

Rio’s fingers hovered over a black dahlia, her brow furrowing slightly. “It is striking. I just- perhaps it might overpower everything else? It feels… heavy.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a slight smirk. “You’ve got a good eye, Ms. Vidal. Let’s try something lighter.”

She led Rio to a corner filled with daisies, sunflowers, and Queen Anne’s lace arranged in untamed, sprawling bouquets. The colors were cheerful, bright yellows and soft whites mingling with bursts of lavender.

“This,” Agatha explained, “is more of a rustic theme. Perfect for barn weddings, outdoor ceremonies, or brides who want a laid back atmosphere. It is charming and whimsical.”

Rio smiled faintly but shook her head. “They are lovely, but not me. I don’t want whimsical. I want something… thoughtful. Personal.”

Agatha arched a brow, intrigued by the sudden resolve in Rio’s tone. “Hmm, then let’s keep looking.”

Finally, they stopped in front of a display that caught Rio’s attention. Gorgeously displayed was a collection of voluminous purple hydrangeas, dreamy white dahlias, and lavender roses. They were accented by pale purple lisianthus, and soft purple blooms of asters. The arrangement was understated but elegant, a perfect balance of delicacy and depth with many different florals all following a soft purple theme. 

Agatha’s eyes linger on them and her eyes visibly sparkle. Her hand actually reaches out to this arrangement and she gently traces the hydrangeas. Something in her snaps and she pulls her hand away, tucking it in her blazer pocket and masking her eyes. She was helping Rio look for her wedding. It was not the other way around.

It would never be the other way around. 

Rio’s eyes lit up at seeing Agatha visibly affected by the florals. “This one.”

Agatha hesitated, turning her head to look at Rio curiously. She truly had expected Rio to change her mind and go for the option before this one. “Oh? Purple?”

Rio turned to her, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yes. It feels… calm. Sophisticated, but not overwhelming. It feels like you.”

Agatha’s throat tightened, but she quickly masked it with a nod, jotting something down on her clipboard. “Flowers for your wedding need to feel like you, Rio.”

Rio shrugs, looking at the florals and smiling. “Oddly enough, I think they do.” 

At this, Agatha looks over at Rio and there is a pause. A moment where the two can only look at one another and take in soft breaths. The tension between them becomes palpable. Agatha clears her throat and keeps her tone professional, “We can work with this palette then. It is versatile and we can build around it.”

Rio nods and points to the restroom before silently heading off and leaving Agatha alone with her thoughts. Glancing back at the arrangement, Agatha allows the sparkle to come back to her eyes but it is quickly replaced with something sharp and unreadable. She suddenly flips her hair over her shoulder and leaves the floral shop, waiting for Rio in the car.

The local bakery’s door chimes as the two enter and Agatha greets the workers with familiarity. The Bakery, itself, was quiet except for the soft hum of chatter and the gentle clink of ceramic plates. The intimate setting seemed to amplify every sound, every glance, every breath. Agatha sat across from Rio at a small reserved table tucked into a secluded corner, the warm light above them casting a warm glow over the array of cake slices before them.

“Alright, back to the classics first.” Agatha said, her voice cool and composed as always. She gestured to the first slice. It is a simple vanilla cake with raspberry preserves and a smooth white buttercream spread around it. “Traditional. Timeless. A safe choice for any wedding.”

Rio picked up her fork, her movements hesitant but deliberate. She cut a small piece, bringing it to her lips. The tartness of the raspberry paired with the sweetness of the buttercream was pleasant, but her focus wasn’t on the flavor. Her eyes flicked up, stealing a glance at Agatha.

Agatha was already writing something in her planner, her pen gliding effortlessly across the page. Her attention seemed entirely on the task, her sharp focus unyielding. It made Rio’s chest tighten, her pulse quicken. 

“It’s nice,” Rio finally said, setting her fork down. “But maybe… too nice. Predictable even?”

“Exactly,” Agatha replied without missing a beat, not looking up. “Predictable can be appealing, but it rarely excites.”

Rio hesitated, her eyes lingering on Agatha’s poised figure. She felt a weight to those words. It felt as if they secretly held a deeper meaning for her, though she knew that was not Agatha’s intention when speaking them.  “Are you going to taste it?”

Agatha blinked, finally lifting her gaze from the leather planner. “Me?”

“Yes,” Rio said, her voice quieter now. “I think I’d like to know what you think.. your opinion.”

Agatha tilted her head, her expression briefly unreadable. “Must I remind you again that this is your wedding, Rio. These choices are about your preferences, not mine.”

“I know,” Rio replied quickly, her cheeks flushing. “But… I trust your taste. Please?”

Agatha’s lips parted slightly, as though to protest, but after a moment, she relented. She could not deny those soft brown eyes pleading with her to try the cake too. She never did this but, for Rio, she decided to make an exception. Picking up her fork with precision, she cut a small piece of the vanilla cake.

Rio watched, her breath catching as Agatha brought the bite to her lips. Her movements were slow, deliberate. The fork disappeared into her mouth, and Rio couldn’t help but notice the faint trace of the rosebud pink lipstick left on the silver. Agatha’s jaw shifted slightly as she chewed, her eyes narrowing in thought before she swallowed.

“It’s balanced,” Agatha said at last, her tone as composed as ever. “Pleasant, but unremarkable.”

Rio swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the fork as Agatha set it down beside her plate. “I… agree.” Her voice was quieter now, almost shaky.

The next plate was a dramatic departure. A dark chocolate cake layered with ganache, its glossy surface adorned with flecks of edible gold.

“This,” Agatha said, gesturing to it, “is indulgent. Luxurious. A statement cake, if you will.”

Rio nodded but hesitated before picking up her fork and then pausing again, looking at Agatha. “You taste it first.”

Agatha arched a brow. “Rio...”

“Please?” Rio interrupted, her cheeks heating under Agatha’s steady gaze. “I would like to see what you think first.”

Agatha studied her for a moment before giving a small nod. She cut a piece of the cake, lifting it to her lips. This time, Rio was utterly transfixed.

The way Agatha’s lips closed over the fork was almost hypnotic, her lipstick leaving another faint rose colored mark on the silver. Her eyes closed briefly as she savored the bite, a quiet hum of approval escaping her throat. When she opened her eyes again, her expression had softened slightly, though her voice remained steady.

“Rich,” Agatha said simply, keeping her opinion brief. “Decadent, but balanced. It lingers.”

Rio swallowed but it was not the cake she was tasting, it was the lingering tension in the air between them growing heavy and solid in her throat. “It… sounds like a lot.”

Agatha’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “It can be. Not everyone enjoys something bold.”

Rio’s fork slipped slightly in her hand, and she felt a faint blush creeping up her neck. She forced herself to take a bite, but her focus remained on Agatha, on the way her fingers rested lightly against the table, the slight curve of her wrist as she picked up her pen again and the softness of her manicured hands while she jot something down in the planner.

When they moved to the third cake, a bright lemon and elderflower slice, Rio hesitated again. “Will you taste this one first, too?”

Agatha gave her a pointed look, her brow arched. “You’re supposed to be making the decisions here.”

“I know,” Rio replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… I enjoy watching you.”

The words hung in the air like a live wire. Agatha’s pen froze mid note, her gaze flicking up to meet Rio’s. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick and crackling again.

“I mean…” Rio stammered, her blush deepening. “You have a better palate for this sort of thing, you know?”

Agatha’s eyes lingered on her, sharp and searching, before she relented once more. She picked up her fork, slicing into the lemon cake and tasting it with her usual precision. Rio could not tear her eyes away from the way Agatha’s lips curved slightly as she tasted, the way her tongue glided to the corner of her mouth to lick some of the glaze from where it smudged.

Rio wondered what it might be like clean it with her own lips. Before her mind can get too deep into this fantasy, Agatha speaks and pulls her back from the clouds.

“It’s refreshing,” Agatha said after a moment. “Bright. Cheerful. But maybe more for a summer occasion?”

Rio nodded faintly, though she hadn’t even tasted the cake yet.

Finally, the baker brought out the last sample: a lavender and pistachio cake. Its pale violet layers were delicate and inviting, the glaze shimmering faintly under the soft lights and speckles of nutty pistachio crumbles.

Agatha hesitated this time, her fork hovering over the plate.

Rio leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Taste it with me?”

Agatha’s gaze met hers, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes.. uncertainty, hesitation, and maybe even curiosity. After a lingering moment, she nodded, cutting a piece of the cake as Rio did the same.

They tasted it simultaneously, their movements mirroring each other. Rio’s breath hitched as she watched Agatha’s reaction. Her eyes softened, her lips parting slightly in approval as she chewed. Her mind raced with the idea that her tongue was tasting exactly what Agatha was tasting at this moment.

“This…” Agatha murmured, her voice quieter now. “This is exceptional. Delicate, but layered. Memorable.”

Rio swallowed hard, her pulse racing and her eyes glancing towards Agatha’s lips. “I think it’s perfect.”

Agatha glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “You are certain already? You don’t want to taste other flavors or perhaps revisit one?” Agatha asked as she absentmindedly took another bite of the cake.

Rio nodded, her gaze steady but her hands trembling slightly. “Yes. I’m sure. It’s perfect… it must be, you took two bites.”

Agatha stilled, her lips curving into the faintest smile and looking down at her fork. She looks back up and covers her lips with her fingers, looking bashful as she chews and swallows quickly to respond. “I suppose I did.”

Rio’s chest tightened as Agatha set her fork down, her movements as graceful as ever. The tension between them was almost unbearable now, thick and heady, and as they left the bakery together, Rio found herself wondering if she’d ever taste anything as sweet as watching Agatha eat cake.

As they stepped out of the bakery into the crisp evening air, Rio trailed behind Agatha, her mind a storm of emotions she couldn’t quite name. Agatha walked ahead, heels clicking against the pavement with her usual precision and leading them toward her car parked under the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp. The tension between them felt alive, wrapping around Rio like a second skin.

Agatha unlocked the car with a quick click, slipping into the driver’s seat with effortless grace. Rio hesitated for a moment before following, settling into the passenger seat where the faint scent of lavender and leather enveloped her. The interior of the car was dimly lit, the soft hum of the engine breaking the silence as Agatha started it.

Agatha adjusted the mirror, turned on their heated seats and glanced at Rio briefly, her profile illuminated by the dashboard lights. “I’ll have you home in about twenty minutes,” she said, her voice smooth and controlled.

Rio hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her coat. “Actually,” she said, her voice quieter and more nervous than she intended, “could we make a quick stop at the floral shop?”

Agatha’s brow arched slightly, though she kept her eyes on the road. “The floral shop? At this hour? We were just there.”

Rio nodded, her lips curving into a faint, almost sheepish smile at Agatha’s clear confusion. “It’s still open. I checked with them earlier.”

Agatha hesitated for just a beat before giving a small nod, turning the wheel smoothly to change course. The silence between them thickened, charged with something unspoken, as the car glided through the quiet streets.

When they arrived at the shop, Rio looked over and grins mischievously. This was a new side of her Agatha had not yet experienced. “No need to join me. I will be in and out.” She quickly slipped out of the car before Agatha could get a proper protest out. Agatha stayed in the car, her sharp eyes flicking to the shop window where she saw Rio exchange a few words with the florist behind the counter. A moment later, Rio emerged, clutching a bouquet wrapped in soft white paper.

Agatha frowned slightly as Rio slid back into the car, the faint scent of dahlias, hydrangeas, and roses filling the small space. “I wasn’t aware you needed flowers tonight,” Agatha remarked, her tone carefully neutral but a slight tease glimmered in her eyes.

Rio glanced at her, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t. These aren’t for me.”

Agatha’s brow furrowed as she glanced at the bouquet, her hands tightening briefly on the steering wheel. “Then who are they for?”

Rio hesitated, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the paper wrapping. “They’re for you.”

Agatha blinked, her lips parting and the usual composure she hid behind was faltering for the briefest moment. “For me?”

Rio nodded, her smile deepening. “I noticed earlier today, at the shop.. You kept looking at these. You tried to hide it, I know you did but I saw the way your eyes gave you away.” She let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t actually go to the bathroom earlier. I snuck to the counter and ordered them before we left.”

Agatha stared at her, caught completely off guard. Her lips parted again, but no words came out at first. Nobody had ever bought her flowers before. The bouquet rested in Rio’s lap, its delicate scent weaving through the air, and for the first time that day, Agatha felt utterly unprepared. This was outside of her very precise and planned lines. 

“That was… unnecessary,” Agatha said finally, though her voice lacked its usual professionalism and sharpness.

Rio tilted her head, her expression softening further. “Maybe... But you deserve them.”

The air between them grew heavier, their breaths filling the silence in the car. Agatha’s gaze flicked from the road to the bouquet, then back to Rio, who was watching her with an openness that made her chest tighten and her stomach swirl.

“Thank you,” Agatha said, her voice unusually quiet and soft.

Rio’s smile didn’t fade, but there was something unreadable in her eyes now, something that made Agatha grip the wheel just a little tighter and force her eyes away. The rest of the drive passed in silence, the tension thick enough to make it feel difficult to breathe.

When they finally arrived at Rio’s family estate, Agatha put the car in park but didn’t look at her immediately. Rio lingered, the bouquet still in her lap, the air between them humming with the weight of everything unspoken.

“Goodnight, Rio,” Agatha said at last, her voice steady but softer than usual. Her gaze was quite hesitant which was unlike her. Agatha always exuded confidence… but not tonight.

Rio hesitated, her fingers brushing against the flowers. “Goodnight, Agatha. Thank you for today and… I hope you like them.” She says and sits the flowers on the console. 

Agatha glanced at the flowers, then to Rio, her sharp eyes softening for just a moment. “I do,” she said quietly.

Rio stepped out of the car, waving before turning and walking up the expansive walkway. Her heart was pounding as she made her way up the steps to the door. When she glanced back, she saw Agatha still sitting in the car, her hands lightly holding the bouquet, gaze distant.

Rio’s chest tightened, her mind replaying every moment of the evening. From the dress fitting, to the cake, the flowers, the unbearable tension that lingered between them like a secret. She slipped inside, but the feeling didn’t leave her. If anything, it grew stronger.