resurgence || rosekook

resurgence

The soft scent of jasmine lingered in the air, layered with the aroma of coffee. The café was a safe place—a quiet refuge tucked away from the bustle of the city. With bouquets and flower pots arranged neatly in a corner. My customers were always different: the tired office worker, the couple on a date, the student lost in a book. But the flowers remained constant, like my own small world of familiarity and comfort.

It had been a long day, the last of the sun slipping through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor. The soft hum of the coffee machine in the background was a steady companion to my thoughts. I loved this space. I had created it with my own hands—every flower carefully chosen, every cup brewed with care. 

The soft jingling of the bell above the café door broke the quiet hum of the afternoon. It wasn't anything extraordinary—just a normal part of the day in my little corner of the world. But when I looked up, my heart did an unexpected leap. 

There he was. 

I hadn't seen him in five years. Not since that last night before he left for university. Back then, I had told myself it wasn't the end. But life, it seems, had other plans. Time had a way of pulling us in different directions, and before long, he became a memory I cherished but couldn't hold on to. The long hours we spent during high school, the way we talked about the future as if it was some distant land that didn't belong to anyone yet... those were just memories now.

He stood there, in the doorway, hesitating like he wasn't sure if he should walk in. And for a moment, I wasn't sure what to do either. The whole scene felt surreal, like a dream I couldn't wake up from. 

He hadn't changed much on the surface—still tall, still that confident posture, that same easy charm. But there was something different now, something about the way he carried himself. A sort of assuredness that came with success, the air of someone who had lived more in those five years than I had in the past ten. 

I was still... here. Still in my little café. Still running the same small business. Still managing the flower shop tucked into the corner, surrounded by all the little plants I had carefully chosen, nurtured, and watched grow over the years.

"Rosie?" His voice was soft but not hesitant. It was a familiar sound, but it felt foreign now, like something I hadn't heard in years. 

"Jungkook." My own voice came out quieter than I intended, almost caught in my throat, as I slowly wiped my hands on my apron. 

He took a cautious step forward, and I could feel the tension building between us, thick and palpable. The same old questions swirled in my mind. 

What had changed?

Had anything changed?

Was it just me, or did we both feel the weight of time pressing down on us?

"You're... still here?" he asked, his words lingering awkwardly in the air. His gaze flicked around the small café, his eyes landing on the flowers that adorned the tables and windowsills. "I didn't expect that."