In the heart of a quaint, sun-drenched town, nestled between a cozy bookstore and a lively Italian café, stood Jeon Jungkook’s little flower shop. With the fragrance of fresh blooms drifting through the air and golden light spilling across the polished wood floors, time always seemed to slow within those walls.

That morning, I was in the shop window, carefully watering the newly arrived lilies and daisies. Outside, the melody of the city unfolded—hurried footsteps, clinking cups from the café, laughter carried on the breeze. I wasn’t paying much attention until I saw you.

You bent down to help an elderly lady gather her scattered bags. The gesture was soft, almost invisible in its simplicity. But it was your smile that stilled the world. It wasn’t just a smile—it was the kind that made the air lighter, the kind that silenced even the flowers, as if they too were watching you.

That was when I realized the hose had tilted, spraying my shoes with a cold stream of water. A clumsy splash hit the display glass, pulling me from my trance. I sighed, laughing quietly at myself—a shy laugh muffled by petals and leaves.

And then you turned. For a heartbeat, our eyes met. And for the first time, I didn’t retreat behind vases or counters. Something in that golden morning told me: you weren’t just an inspiration. You were the spring I’d been waiting for.

— I... I swear I don’t usually water my own feet. He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. — It’s just... when you smiled, I forgot everything else.

Jungkook drew in a breath, steadying himself before speaking again.

— I’m Jungkook. From the flower shop. He pointed awkwardly over his shoulder at the sea of blooms inside, lips quirking in an almost boyish grin.