Chapter-28 His Chance

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Jungkook pulled the car to a smooth stop, gripping the steering wheel as he exhaled deeply. His heart pounded—not from nerves, but from anticipation. This was new for him. Different. Yet, for the first time in a long while, he wanted to try.

Pushing the car door open, he stepped out into the cool afternoon air. The soft chime of wind chimes hanging outside the little flower shop welcomed him as he approached. The scent of fresh blooms wrapped around him, a mixture of sweetness and earthiness, grounding his resolve.

"If you can’t express your feelings, then use flowers. They’re the best at it," Tony’s words echoed in his mind. His secretary had been surprisingly enthusiastic when Jungkook, of all people, had asked for help.

Jungkook’s sharp eyes scanned the shop, falling upon the delicate hues arranged so carefully. Some were vibrant and passionate, others soft and innocent, their petals fragile yet full of meaning. His fingers brushed over a cluster of roses, their silk-like texture contrasting with the rough callouses on his hands.

"How can I help you, sir?"

The florist’s voice pulled him from his trance. Jungkook turned, suddenly aware of how out of place he must look—a man in a sleek black suit, standing uncertainly among an ocean of florals.

"Uhm," he cleared his throat, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He was completely clueless. What did people even buy for their wives in situations like this?

With a sheepish smile, he met the florist’s gaze. "Can you help me choose?"

The older woman chuckled warmly. "Of course. That’s why we’re here." She studied him for a moment before asking, "Who’s the lucky person? Your girlfriend?"

Jungkook’s lips parted, his gaze drifting downward as he caught sight of a single red rose. A small, soft smile tugged at his lips.

"No," he murmured, "I want to buy them for my wife."

The florist’s eyes softened at his words, sensing something deeper behind them.

"What’s her favorite flower?"

His smile faltered.

Favorite flower?

A sinking realization settled in his chest—he didn’t know. Not because she never told him, but because he never asked.

Guilt gnawed at him, but he quickly shook it away. He wasn’t here to dwell on the past. He was here to fix things.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted his gaze, a newfound determination in his eyes. "We’re starting a new chapter of our life. I want something that represents that."

The florist nodded knowingly. "A fresh start, huh?" She turned and walked toward another section of the shop, carefully selecting a few stems before returning with a bouquet.

White and pink roses—soft, elegant, and full of meaning.

White and pink roses—soft, elegant, and full of meaning

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