𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊 || 𝐕𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

07

the air in the shop felt heavier today. maybe it was just me—nerves frayed, thoughts swirling in my head like a storm that refused to settle.

i was back in the shadows, watching, waiting. the florist moved with the same effortless grace as always, his hands tending to the flowers like they were sacred. every movement of his drew me in, like a moth to a flame.

but the peace shattered when he arrived.

the man from before.

i stayed near the edge of the shop window, tucked behind the display of vibrant hydrangeas. the door was slightly ajar, just enough for the voices to drift out with the sound of passing footsteps.

he walked into the shop with a confidence that made my skin crawl. tall, dark-haired, and too familiar. i clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as i watched him approach the counter, his smile wide and too easy.

taehyung greeted him with that soft smile—the one i craved, the one that wasn’t meant for anyone else.

the man leaned forward, holding a bouquet of pink roses. "you’ve got a real gift," he said, his voice smooth, practiced. "not everyone can make something as simple as flowers look this beautiful."

taehyung laughed, shaking his head modestly. "it’s just part of the job."

"no," the man insisted, his tone laced with something that made my blood boil. "it’s not the flowers—it’s you. you make them beautiful."

the audacity.

taehyung’s cheeks flushed, his gaze dropping to the counter. "that’s kind of you to say," he murmured, his voice soft.

kind. i wanted to tear that word apart.

my jaw tightened as the man reached out, his fingers brushing taehyung’s wrist as he handed over a bill. it was deliberate, calculated.

the florist didn’t pull away.

the rage inside me burned hotter. he was too trusting. too unaware of how someone could take advantage of his softness.

when the man finally left, he wore the same smug grin as before, like he’d won a prize. he hadn’t.

i followed him.

he walked with that same arrogant stride, turning a corner into a quieter street. my steps were light, blending with the rhythm of the city.

he paused outside a café, pulling out his phone, unaware of the eyes burning into him from across the street. i studied him—his movements, his demeanor. i imagined him gone. erased.

it wouldn’t be hard.

he was nothing. just a stain on the edge of the picture i was creating, a blemish that needed to be removed.

when i turned back toward the shop, taehyung was still there, oblivious, arranging flowers with the same careful touch that haunted my thoughts.

but tomorrow, that man wouldn’t matter. tomorrow, i’d make sure he was out of the picture.