The Bloom of Something New

By the first morning, I was already smiling before I even saw them.

Sarah entered my office carrying the most stunning bouquet I'd ever seen—long-stemmed roses, soft blush peonies, and white ranunculus nestled in a bed of eucalyptus, all tied with a ribbon the color of champagne.

"They're from him, aren't they?" she asked knowingly.

I took the arrangement gently, heart fluttering in a way I wasn't used to. I wasn't the kind of woman who got flowers. I was the kind who scheduled meetings, chased down contracts, built empires from tenacity and spreadsheets.

But now, I was the kind of woman who had a fresh bouquet waiting for her on a Monday.

I plucked the card from the gold envelope.

Day One – 'Even frost thaws eventually.' – Blake

I stared at the words for longer than I'd admit. My lips curled despite myself.

No one had ever pursued me before. Not like this.

I'd been too focused—first on school, then on the company. I was the girl who graduated early, skipped parties, declined casual coffee dates. No one tried to chase me. I made sure of that.

But Blake...

He wasn't chasing. He was showing up. With gentleness. With effort. And it disarmed me.

I arranged the flowers on my desk and inhaled their scent. A mix of sweetness and something bold. Just like the man who sent them.

—

The second morning brought blue hydrangeas and pale yellow tulips, wrapped in ivory silk. I couldn't help it—I grinned when Sarah walked in with them.

"Don't even try to play it cool," she said.

I didn't. Not this time.

I took the bouquet and found the card.

Day Two – 'The best things come slowly. Let's see where this goes. – Blake'

There was something about the way he wrote—like each note was a whisper only meant for me.

I set the flowers next to yesterday's, creating a soft halo of petals around my workspace. Sarah looked between me and the desk with amusement.

"You do realize you're falling just a little," she said.

"I'm intrigued," I corrected.

But even I knew it was more than that.

I couldn't stop thinking about our dinner. The quiet warmth in his eyes, the way he listened when I spoke like it mattered. Like I mattered.

I hadn't realized how much I wanted that.

—

On Day Three, orchids arrived—white and soft lilac, delicate and rare.

'We are like orchids – delicate but enduring. Say yes to dinner. – B.'

I held the card to my chest for a moment before slipping it into my drawer with the others. My fingers lingered over the smooth paper.

Sarah raised a brow as she walked in.

"No reply yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

But I wanted to.

I spent the rest of the day distracted, rereading old messages, resisting the urge to text him back. He wasn't rushing me. That made it harder to resist. He was giving me space and still reaching out in a way that was both bold and respectful.

No one had ever done that before.

I'd always believed romance was a luxury for people who had time. I never had time. I had purpose, ambition, goals. I had board meetings and brand strategies. Not petals and poetry.

But now I had both.

—

Day Four changed everything.

There were no flowers that morning. Instead, a sleek envelope lay on my desk, embossed with my name in Blake's handwriting.

Inside was a photograph. A candid from our first press conference together. He was caught mid-smirk, looking sideways at me while I stood with arms crossed, stoic and unamused.

On the back, he'd written:

"Let's rewrite this story. Dinner?"

I traced the curve of his writing with my fingertip. Something soft bloomed in my chest, gentle and strange.

I remembered that day. How annoyed I'd been with his charm, with his confidence. And yet, even then, a part of me had been watching him too.

Sarah appeared at the door and tilted her head. "No flowers?"

I held up the photo.

She whistled. "He's switching tactics. Smart move."

"I think..." I began, staring down at the picture, "I think I'm going to say yes."

She didn't answer with words. Just grinned and turned on her heel.

—

That evening, I pulled out my phone and typed a reply.

[Me]: You're annoyingly persistent.

His response was instant.

[Blake]: It's a family trait. I'm told it pairs well with good wine.

[Me]: Friday. Pick me up at seven.

There was a long pause, and I waited, heart skipping.

Then came the ding.

[Blake]: I'll be there. Wear something that makes you feel like trouble.

I rolled my eyes, smiling at the screen.

Twenty minutes later, a single red rose arrived at my office. No card. No explanation.

But I didn't need one.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't chasing something.

Someone was choosing me.

And maybe... maybe I was ready to be chosen.