---Two weeks later---
The door to my shop opened with a soft chime, and a man stepped inside. His eyes scanned the arrangements before he approached the counter.
“How much are the red roses?” he asked, his voice soft yet purposeful.
I looked up from what I was doing, offering a polite smile. “It depends on what you prefer, sir. Would you like a single stem or a bouquet?” I gestured toward a cluster of deep red roses wrapped in textured black paper, tied with a large red ribbon—one of my personal favorites.
“Hm... I like that bouquet,” he said, his gaze fixed on the elegant arrangement. “How much for that?”
“The bouquet is priced at $50, sir,” I replied, my voice steady.
“I’ll take it,” he said without hesitation, as though he had known all along that this was the one. It’s always the
