Young Rose sat in her room, bent over a scrap of worn linen, painstakingly stitching a rose with thick, unruly thread. The fabric was coarse, and the thread—made from Kah fibers, a weed that grew abundantly in the region—was uneven, bulky, and prone to knotting. It was commonly used for patching clothes or mending sacks, but Rose’s lack of skill with a needle made even this crude material seem impossibly difficult to work with.

Her fingers trembled as the needle snagged the linen, tearing it further instead of creating the elegant rose she envisioned. The misshapen stitches sprawled across the fabric like a tangled web, and her frustration simmered just beneath the surface. She bit her lip hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

Her punishment weighed on her, as suffocating as the stifling heat in the small room. Because of her forbidden trip to the forest, she was grounded for three days—one for each coin she had earned. It was meant to be a lesson, though she couldn’t fathom what she was supposed to learn from losing her freedom and, worse, her dress. The merchants had moved on, and the beautiful garment she had dreamed of owning was lost forever.

At least, that’s what she believed—until Iris burst into her room like a whirlwind of cheer. Rose’s older sister twirled dramatically, the fabric of her new dress flaring out as she spun, her face lit with a radiant smile.

“Rosie! Look at what Daddy got for me!” Iris chirped, her voice dripping with excitement.

Rose froze, her hands clutching the fraying linen as a cold sensation crept over her. Her gaze drifted upward, and her stomach churned.

“That’s...” she managed to choke out, her eyes widening as though they might pop from her skull.

Iris, oblivious to her sister’s dismay, beamed and struck a playful pose. “Right? Isn’t it super cute? And it feels amazing!” She smoothed the dress over her frame with exaggerated flair, clearly reveling in her own delight. “I don’t even know what it’s made of, but I bet we’ll never feel anything like this again. Go on, feel it!” She stepped closer, offering a sleeve to Rose, her smile as wide as the sky.

Rose stared at the dress, a hollow ache spreading through her chest. She didn’t need to touch it to know. The vibrant fabric, the intricate stitching—it was unmistakable. The dress Iris now wore was the very one Rose had lost her coins trying to buy.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, a sob caught in her throat, and she turned on her heel, fleeing the room. She ran from her home, the tears streaming down her face blurring her vision. She didn’t pay attention to where her feet carried her—she just needed to get away.

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When she finally stopped, she found herself in the flower field. The sacred ground of the village, where the souls of their ancestors were said to rest, the flowers swaying gently as if breathing with the wind. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, exhausted. Her tears had long run dry by the time her legs gave out completely. She sat there, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, her breaths shallow and uneven.

Some time passed before a shadow fell over her.

“Hey, Rose,” a voice called softly. “Something bothering you?”

She blinked, startled, and looked up. Acker stood there, his warm brown eyes steady and calm. The golden light of the setting sun framed him like something out of a dream, and she could only sniffle.

He sat down beside her watching the sun set. For a moment, he said nothing, simply gazing out at the horizon. The flowers moved gently in the wind, as if bowing to the descending sun.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked after a while.

Rose hesitated, her lip trembling. “No,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Acker nodded as if that was enough, leaning back on his hands and watching the sky. The sun dipped lower, painting the village below in hues of gold and orange. The light caught the flowers, setting them aglow like tiny lanterns swaying in the breeze.

The stillness loosened something in her chest. She didn’t know why, but being here with him made it easier to speak. “Sometimes…” she started, her voice faltering. She took a shaky breath and tried again. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t… belong here.”

Her words lingered in the air, fragile and unsure. Acker didn’t look at her right away, his gaze still on the horizon. When he finally turned, his expression was soft, his eyes searching hers.

“Why would you think that?” he asked gently.

Rose shrugged, picking at a blade of grass. “I don’t know,” she whispered, though the words burned in her throat. “It’s like… everyone has a place, but I don’t. I don’t fit, not really.”

Acker was quiet for a moment, letting her words settle. “I think you’re wrong.” he turned his head looking at her. “You’re part of this place, Rose,” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “But—” she stopped as she looked up and found him holding a flower to her. A single red rose, its petals soft and vibrant, its thorns carefully removed.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Where did you get that?”

He smiled faintly, tilting his head toward the flowers around them. “It was hiding,” he said smoothly. “Letting the other flowers have their moment in the sun, while it kept its beauty quiet. Waiting for the right one to notice.”

Rose stared at the rose in his hand, her chest tightening at the weight of his words. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against the stem as she took it from him.

“I found it while looking for my own,” he continued, his voice quiet but steady. “It was growing right next to it.”

Her breath hitched, and a warmth crept up her face as she looked up at him. His gaze was gentle, sincere, and something about it made her pulse quicken. She blinked, unsure of what to say, her thoughts tangled and uncertain.

A heat filled her face, a small flicker in her heart.