Chapter 13
By the Seine in Lumière, a flower shop named Petit Oubli (Little Forgetfulness) was thriving.
The owner, a beautiful and warm–hearted woman, was adored by locals for her sincerity.
Her name was Wendy Winslow.
Or rather, the only thing she still remembered was her name.
When she first arrived in Lumière, she remembered nothing.
Opening her phone, the only contact left was someone labeled “Dr. Yvonne Shaw.”
Yvonne not only arranged for her rental but also lent her seed money to open the shop.
Though her past remained a blank slate, her current life felt fulfilling and peaceful.
“Patter! Patter!”
Lumière’s weather was unpredictable–one moment sunny, the next pouring rain.
Wendy had just stood to close the shop when a large hand shot through the door, blocking it.
Startled, she peered through the gap and saw a refined–looking American man standing outside, his shoulders damp from the rain.
His eyes lit up the moment they landed on her. “Mind if I take shelter?”
“Sure.”
The air was quiet, the space between them charged with an awkward tension.
The man glanced around the shop before his gaze settled on Wendy as she trimmed flower stems. Unconsciously, his lips curved into a smile. Feeling his stare, Wendy looked up and offered a polite smile.
“Maybe I should buy some flowers,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Of course.” Wendy set down her shears. “What would you like?”
“Those!” He pointed at the forget–me–nots tucked in a corner. Wendy froze, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes.
Forget–me–nots were her favorite too.
An unchanging heart, loyal unto death. No matter how the flowers bloom and fade–forget me not.
F ྃ རྗ རྗ ཐ ྃ ༢ ྃ
In Lumière, these delicate blossoms were far less popular than roses or lilies. She never expected someone to share her taste.
She quickly wrapped the flowers and handed them to him.
As he reached for his wallet, he suddenly patted his pockets and groaned. “Damn it, my wallet’s gone!”
Wendy waved her hands. “Don’t worry! Take the flowers–you can pay next time.”
The man smiled gratefully. “I’ll definitely come back tomorrow.”
The rain hadn’t stopped, but the man who’d sought shelter now clutched the flowers to his chest and dashed back into the downpour.
Watching his retreating figure, Wendy pulled out her phone and vented to Yvonne. “Met an interesting guy at the shop today. Bought forget–me–nots but lost his wallet.”
The reply was instant. “Oh? Was he handsome?”
Wendy recalled his refined, handsome features. “Yeah, very.”
Yvonne replied, “Sounds like fate! Is spring finally here for you?”
Suddenly, a sharp, inexplicable pain stabbed through Wendy’s chest.
She pressed a hand to her heart, unsure where the sensation came from.
“Let’s not talk about this.” She changed the subject irritably. Chapter 13
Three days later, as Wendy opened the shop, a group of thugs barged in and started smashing everything without warning.
Flower stands toppled, blossoms crushed underfoot as they hurled curses.
Wend
Just the
moved to stop them, but one man kicked her hard in the stomach. “You stole our flower shop’s business! This is what you get!”
a
her back, pain flaring in her abdomen and spine.
‘t done. Another man lifted a flower stand, ready to slam it down on her.
figure charged in and punched the man square in the face.
His movements were crisp, filled with controlled fury.
It was the forget–me–not guy from yesterday!
Outnumbered, the thugs swarmed him, trying to overpower him through sheer numbers.
In the chaos, the man’s arm was slashed open, blood dripping steadily.
Seeing his skill, the thugs eventually retreated with a few final curses.
Wendy struggled to her feet and rushed to check his injury.
“You’re hurt!” Guilt and worry twisted her stomach as she grabbed the first–aid kit and carefully treated his wound.
“By the way, I never got your name,” she said while dabbing iodine on the cut.
11 Jason Fairchild.”
Jason. Such a pleasant name.
“Thank you for today,” she murmured.
Jason chuckled, teasing. “Just a ‘thank you“?”
