Princess of Flowers

Mia spun around and lit up in pleasant surprise. “W-Wes?!”

Her cheeks flushed while she fumbled with the flowers in her arms. At such an endearing reaction, Wes couldn't help the warmth unfurling in his chest. She appeared as happy to see him as he was.

“Um, what are you doing h-here?” she questioned as she met him halfway.

“Oh, uh…” he faltered, having forgotten his double identity. “...Part-time job?”

Her eyes widened and gleamed. “R-Really?! Me too! What do you do?”

“Some backstage stuff… Wait, you too?”

“Yeah!” she giggled, then glanced down at the bouquet. “I'm supposed to deliver this to Ms. Claire Ashthorne. Oh, but, um… This isn't really my job. At the flower shop, I’m in charge of the plants, l-like a florist of sorts! I’m simply covering for my sick coworker.”

“I see. You’re seriously amazing, Mia. You’re so good at many things,” he remarked with genuine admiration. “Not only do you make flowers, but you also care for them—truly, a princess straight out of fairytales.”

She blushed in embarrassment and whimpered, “D-Don’t call me that…”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Why not? You are a princess—my princess.”

“Eek!”

If he was the ‘Sun Prince,’ his girlfriend was definitely the ‘Flower Princess.’

That epiphany seized him as she covered her face with the bouquet, rosy cheeks and pale red eyes peeking through the colorful cascade of petals. He couldn't look away; she's enchanting, spellbinding. The nickname fit her without a doubt, and he would be sure to use it with no reservation, though he also wondered if he should only do so when they're alone.

This was a new side to Mia he’d never seen before—a side he hoped nobody else would see.

From the other end, a few staff members were approaching quickly, about to cross paths with them. He swiftly moved themselves to the corner without uttering a word, her back against the wall, and his to the corridor. With his large and tall frame hiding her smaller one, he quietly listened and waited for the advancing footsteps to pass through.

‘Ah… This emotion…’ It was foreign, but it's something he'd probably learn more of and hopefully get used to in the coming days.

“Hey, Wes,” she suddenly called while tugging the hem of his sleeve and cutely blinking up at him, and he tried very hard not to squish her into a hug right then. “Do you happen to know where Ms. Ashthorne might be? You mentioned you work here, so…”

He nodded and smiled. “Yeah. Let me bring you there.”

“T-Thank you! I thought I'd be running late,” she almost cried in relief.

“Anything for my princess.”

“Ngh…! I-I said don't…”

Try as she might, she wouldn't be able to dissuade him when she's in such a bashful state. He chuckled before gently prying the delivery package out of her hands to carry it on her behalf, which seemed to ease the tension from her shoulders. For a presentation bouquet, it’s a little heavy with all the wrappings and decorations, not that it's his first time holding one.

‘And she carried this by herself for who knew how long on top of searching through this building.’ As Wes led the way to Claire's private lounge, his heart swelled with both affection and pride for the girl next to him.

He wanted to express as much, but there were many eyes around. One careless move, and rumors would ignite a spark that would then spread like wildfire. He swore to let her set the pace of their relationship, to have it unfold on its own time.

And that resolve strengthened more whenever he noticed her freeze up at the slightest amount of attention as they navigated through the jostling throngs.

“You two!” A bodyguard stationed at the entrance closed the distance to them in long and measured strides, which appeared to have frightened Mia. “Where are you going? This is a restricted area.”

“H-Huh? I t-thought we’re allowed h-here…”

‘We are.’ Wes scowled and walked to stand between them. ‘Did my cousin just hire this guy? He doesn't seem to recognize me, but I don’t want him making a fuss when I show my face. Should I wait here and call her PA instead?’

“Call a professional! Claire is having a major wardrobe emergency!” shouted a woman with glasses as she bolted out of the dressing room, much to everyone's surprise.

“It’s no big deal, Juliette. I can just wear something else, and I don't mind the spares,” they heard another speak from inside, whom he could tell was his cousin.

“I do! We didn't wait a year for you to just go out there and perform in such modest apparel. You deserve to wear something that matches the talent and effort you’ve poured into this. That’s why-”

“You saw the damage. The seam is split all the way along the side, and the beads are about to fall off. It’s ruined. We don’t have time to call for anyone and have them fix it before the curtain call.”

Juliette groaned and palmed her face. “Just where did that wardrobe supervisor go off to?”

It seemed to be a dire situation if even the usually composed manager was this frantic. The fact that none of the other production members was around easily drew suspicion as well. Claire may have sounded unbothered, but anyone who'd ever performed would realize the high stakes of this kind of offstage mishap, and he knew she was just not one to show her true feelings to others.

‘This isn’t the time to be stubborn. There are still about twenty minutes. They can still ask for help,' Wes thought as he held back a sigh. ‘And that gown was prepared by one of the other sponsors for this recital. What would they think if they saw her wearing something else?’

“Umm… If it’s just the seams and the beads, they can be restitched and reattached. Depending on the type of fabric and complexity of the design, it can take fifteen to thirty minutes for a specialist to fix them. But if you prefer to shorten the repair time, you may have to get creative and come up with an alternative method to hide the damage.”

All heads snapped toward Mia.

Suddenly no longer meek and stammering, she now stood tall with a familiar fierce look burning in her eyes. His breath caught at the sight, his heart beating faster in marvel and anticipation. He figured out what to do at that moment, but he kept silent and allowed the scene to unravel.

“What do you mean?” Juliette asked tentatively, suspicion and desperation mingling in her tone.

Mia took a deep breath before responding, “If possible, instead of trying to resew the seam and replace every bead, why not…redesign it on the spot? Add a draped sash, pin the ornaments into a deliberate pattern, make the rip look intentional…”

Claire stepped out then, blonde hair tied into a bun, blue eyes cool and collected. “And you are?”

“M-M-Mia! F-Flower delivery girl!” Mia turned her head to her side as if to prove her words, and Wes lifted the bouquet to both show them the proof and hide his face, then spoke up using a different voice, “And her fellow delivery boy~!”