Persephone's POV
If I sold one more flower this week, I might've thrown a party.
Not a big one just me, a slice of cake, and maybe my one surviving rose in attendance.
But it was Thursday, and so far, I'd had two customers.
Two.
And one of them only came in to ask for directions.
The flower shop was silent except for the weak hum of the ceiling fan that looked like it was one wobble away from falling. The morning light slipped through the blinds, catching the floating dust in the air. It would've looked poetic if I wasn't living in the middle of it.
I sat behind the counter, chin propped on my palm, staring at the empty door like I could will someone to walk in. Maybe a desperate boyfriend, a wedding planner, or even a grandma with a soft spot for tulips.
Anyone, really.
Instead, the street outside stayed quiet. People walked past without looking, too busy to notice a tiny flower shop sandwiched between a laundromat and a phone repair store.
Typical.
I sighed and glanced at the vase on the counter. The flowers had wilted overnight. "You and me both," I told them, then poked one petal back into place like that would help.
Running a flower shop was supposed to be peaceful. Healing, even. But right now, it just felt like waiting for something that never came.
I checked the register,barely enough to cover next week's rent. My phone vibrated, reminding me that my internet bill was due tomorrow. Perfect timing.
"Well," I said to no one, "looks like instant noodles are back on the menu."
I grabbed my laptop and opened my writing page. My latest web novel chapter had just gone up an hour ago,The Duke's Reluctant Bride. I still couldn't believe strangers actually read it. A few hundred people, but it meant the world. Writing had started as a hobby, a way to escape reality. Now, it was the only thing keeping me from drowning completely.
I refreshed the page.
Ten new views.
Two comments.
"Wow," I whispered dryly. "Fame really comes fast."
One comment said:
Author, when will the next update be out?
The other said:
This chapter made me cry! Why is the Duke such a jerk??
I smiled a little. "Because he pays my bills," I murmured, typing out a quick thank-you reply.
Writing didn't bring much money yet,just small tips from kind readers but it was something. Some days, it felt like my stories were the only proof that I was still trying.
I leaned back, rubbing my temples. Maybe I could try freelancing again like copywriting, editing, or anything that didn't involve math. Anything but closing this shop.
The bell above the door suddenly jingled.
My head snapped up. "Welcome to-"
"Oh. Sorry, wrong shop!"
The stranger left as fast as he came, leaving the door creaking on its hinges.
I blinked. "That's number three," I said flatly.
I should've laughed, but instead, I looked around the store. The pastel walls I'd painted myself were starting to chip. A few of the potted plants near the window had dried up. Even the old sign outside looked like it had given up hope.
This shop had been my dream. My parents used to say I had a gift how I could make flowers bloom longer than anyone else. They wanted me to open a business someday, something small and beautiful.
I did.
And somehow, I still failed.
"Maybe I should've opened a funeral home instead," I muttered. "At least people always need one of those."
The thought made me snort. Dark humor was the only thing keeping me from crying lately.
When the clock struck six, I decided to call it a day. I flipped the sign on the door from Open to Closed and sat back down at the counter, laptop in front of me.
I wasn't ready to go home yet. Home was a rented room with peeling wallpaper and a leaky tap. At least here, I could pretend the quiet meant peace instead of emptiness.
Out of habit, I opened a new tab and started scrolling through job listings.
No degree, no experience, no hope. That was basically what every post told me.
Then, between ads for customer service jobs and shady investment offers, a weird link caught my eye.
Solve a riddle. Win $1000.
I blinked. "Sure," I said aloud, half-laughing. "Because that's totally not suspicious."
But curiosity won. I clicked it.
The page went dark, and a simple line appeared on the screen:
If a rose blooms in darkness, what is its color?
I tilted my head. "That's it?"
I stared at the words, tapping my finger against the desk. It sounded poetic. Symbolic, even. The kind of thing I'd write at 2 a.m. in one of my melodramatic chapters.
Finally, I typed: White.
The screen froze. Then blinked.
A few seconds later, new text appeared:
Congratulations, Persephone wren. You've been selected.
I frowned. "Selected for what?"
Another line followed:
Welcome to Moretti Industries. An offer letter has been sent to your email.
My heart stopped. "Wait what?"
I checked my inbox. There it was:
A legitimate-looking email from Moretti Inc., one of the biggest corporations in the city.
A job offer.
Good pay.
Starting Monday.
My first instinct was that it had to be a scam.
Then I checked my bank account. There was a small advance payment already sitting there.
I stared at the number. Not much,but enough to cover rent.
For a long time, I just sat there, frozen, watching the cursor blink at me.
"Well," I finally whispered, "either I just got hired or I've been hacked by the nicest scammer alive."
The thought made me laugh, properly this time. A tired, genuine laugh that felt strange after days of silence.
I looked around the shop my little garden of dreams and debt.
The shelves, the empty vases, the cracked floor tiles.
It hurt to think I'd have to leave it behind, but maybe this was what starting over looked like.
I grabbed my coat and my bag, hesitating at the door. A single white rose still stood in a small glass vase by the counter, somehow fresher than the rest.
I took it carefully and tucked it into my bag.
"Let's go, then," I told it softly. "You and me. Maybe this time, we'll bloom somewhere else."
When I stepped outside, the evening breeze brushed against my face. The streets were glowing in the golden hour light, full of people heading home, living their lives.
I didn't know it yet, but the simple choice to click that link had just changed mine.