The bell above the door jingled softly as Zuko stepped into the flower shop, the scent of jasmine and peonies washing over him like a memory he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t ignore. The air was warm, humid from the steady mist of the watering system, and it clung to his collar as he hesitated just inside the doorway. He hadn’t meant to come here; at least, not like this, not without a reason better than missing the sound of her laugh.
He looked older than he had a few months ago. Not in years, but in the tired lines on his face and his stiff posture. A customer near the window glanced up from a bouquet, then went back to sniffing carnations, but Zuko stayed rooted. He was trying not to look like he was searching for her.
Mai’s aunt appeared from behind a rack of chrysanthemums, her hands stained faintly green from trimming stems. “Fire Lord,” she greeted with a smile that didn’t hide the curious twitch of her brow. “It’s been a while.”
Zuko cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, his gaze drifting to the corner of the shop where the violets always used to be. “It has.” He tried to keep his hands at his sides, not clenched, not fidgeting, but his fingers betrayed him, twitching once before he caught himself. Every part of him ached with restraint.
He’d practiced this visit in his head a dozen times, imagined saying something dignified, composed, something meaningful. But standing here now, all he could think about was how her hair used to smell like those fire violets and how he’d give anything to be part of her world again.
“Just…passing by,” he lied, almost convincingly, but even he could hear the hope in his own voice.
[ @musedbyalli ]
