I looked around my shop.

Buckets of roses stood beside the cooler. My assistant was already organizing deliveries.

Every instinct told me to refuse.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

A few hours later, I was arranging flowers at a reception venue I had never worked before when I noticed a familiar woman near the entrance.

Colleen.

For a second, I thought grief was playing another trick on me.

Then she turned.

It was definitely her.

I almost called out.

Then she saw me.

Her expression shifted—not into sadness or surprise, but something closer to fear.