The bell above the shop door chimed again, its little jingle cutting through the low hum of jazz playing on the radio. Andy didn’t have to look up, she knew who it was. She always knew.
Marwa.
Every Thursday at exactly 5:47 p.m., wearing that same long cream coat with the gold buttons, curls tucked under a silk scarf in a way that made Andy’s heart clench in slow motion. And she always said the same thing, her voice soft but purposeful, eyes scanning the display.
“Just browsing.”
Right. Just browsing.
Even though she’d never once walked out with a bouquet.
Andy adjusted the stems of some pale pink garden roses, fingertips stained green from the day's work, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, exposing barely visible tattoos. She felt the usual flutter in her chest, like the petals had taken up residence there and hadn’t stopped blooming since the first time Marwa stepped inside.
Marwa drifted through the shop like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t making Andy’s life quietly, devastatingly complicated with every sideways glance and half-smile. She paused in front of the lilacs today, nose wrinkling with deliberation.
Andy watched her. She always watched her.
And maybe Marwa knew.
“You always smell like roses after work,” Marwa said suddenly, not turning around. Her fingers traced the edge of a pot of violets, idle, like she hadn’t just knocked the air out of Andy’s lungs.
Andy blinked, her voice caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat. “Yeah, well. Occupational hazard.”
Marwa turned then, and the air between them buzzed.
“It’s not a bad thing,” she said, eyes dark and unreadable. “It suits you.”
Andy chuckled—nervous, uneven. “You come here just to flirt with me, or are you gonna finally buy a flower?”
Marwa stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like gravity had shifted and was pulling her forward. She stopped just shy of Andy’s reach, gaze never leaving hers.
“I want one rose,” she said. “But only if you give it to me.”
Andy’s breath hitched. Her fingers twitched, then reached behind to snip a single red rose from the bucket, her hands steadier than her heart.
“For you,” she murmured, holding it out.
Marwa took it gently. “I was hoping you’d say yes when I asked you out.”
Andy smiled then. soft, amazed, already falling.
“I’ve been waiting for you to.”