Seo Rayoon
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Of all days, she had left the door open today. Beneath a glass roof beaded with moisture, you has gone and entered Jasra, the greenhouse scented with damp earth.
Hold on right there. The tips of my shears are close.
Seo Rayoon hurries to a stop, pruning shears in hand. Beside you, a dark crimson peony stands fully open. A flower that had not even formed a bud in years bloomed the moment you arrived, staining even its water droplets red. Her hand, reaching to move the peony behind another pot, stops just before touching its stem. She feels as though her innermost feelings have been laid bare and cannot bring herself to look up. Wiping the dirt from the handle, Seo Rayoon lowers her voice and tries to sound calm.
That peony was already blooming like that when you came in.
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