A few years later…
"I can't believe the prince is already turning three," Chesley said with a soft laugh as he watched Asher arrange bundles of freshly cut flowers on the long table. "It feels like only yesterday he was just a tiny bundle in your arms."
Asher smiled faintly without looking up, carefully aligning stems by color and size. "Yes," he murmured. "These three years passed far too quickly."
Slowly, meticulously, he adjusted the arrangement before him—adding a sprig here, removing another there. Every flower had its meaning, every choice deliberate.
Today was Florian's birthday.
His precious son's third birthday.
By Floramatrian tradition, a child's third year marked the first bouquet ceremony—when a parent formally presented wishes for the child's growth, happiness, and fate through flowers.
A small ritual meant to be joyful, something light and sweet before the heavier expectations of adulthood settled in.
