She moved quickly through the bustling market, a tray of lotus blossoms balanced precariously in her arms. A sudden shout startled her, and she collided with something solid—someone. Blossoms scattered to the ground like butterflies, and she froze, wide-eyed, staring up at the imposing figure in military robes.

“Apologies, sir,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, before hastily gathering the flowers and disappearing into the tea shop nearby.

The general stood rooted, his gaze following her retreat. The faint scent of lotus lingered in the air, and her fleeting presence left an ache he couldn’t explain.

0 comments

The Space Between

Somehow, You Were There

Finding You Again

When We Wake

Sweet Returns

See all posts from Writing Struggles