She Grabs Wrong Suitcase at Airport—Unaware The Billionaire Owner Who Can’t Forget Her Perfume
.
.
A routine park visit turns upside down when little Theo mistakes a stranger for his father and the man doesn’t walk away. For Monica, it was just another Sunday until fate introduced her to the one she never saw coming.
Nia Brooks checked her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Her flight had been delayed for three hours, and now she was going to be late getting home. After spending a week in Barbados, her first real vacation in five years, all she wanted was to get back to her small apartment in Atlanta, take a hot shower, and sleep in her own bed.
“Final boarding call for flight 1872 to Atlanta,” announced the overhead speaker.
Nia grabbed her carry-on bag and hurried to the gate, joining the last few passengers boarding the plane. Finding her seat by the window, she stowed her bag and settled in, watching through the small oval window as the ground crew finished loading luggage into the belly of the aircraft.
Her week in Barbados had been exactly what she needed. Time alone to think, to heal, to remember who she was before Derek had crushed her confidence and left her questioning her worth. The trip had been a birthday gift to herself, paid for with savings from her florist shop, Petal and Stem, which she’d opened three years ago after working for other people since college.
As the plane took off, Nia closed her eyes. She was proud of herself for taking this trip alone. It had been a small act of courage but an important one.
Six hours later, exhausted and eager to get home, Nia made her way through Atlanta’s crowded airport to baggage claim. The carousel was already spinning when she arrived, bags of all shapes and sizes circling around. She spotted a navy blue suitcase that looked like hers and quickly grabbed it, pulling up the handle and heading for the exit. In her hurry, she didn’t notice that the luggage tag had a different name on it.
On the other side of the country, Cassian Roy settled into the plush leather seat of his private jet. The Los Angeles skyline disappeared beneath the clouds as the aircraft climbed to cruising altitude. His assistant, Marcus, sat across from him, reviewing the schedule for their three-day trip to New York.
“The board meeting is at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow,” Marcus said, not looking up from his tablet. “Then lunch with the investors at noon, followed by the marketing presentation at 2:00 p.m.”
Cassian nodded, his face expressionless. At 32, he was one of the youngest CEOs in the lifestyle industry, having built Royce Enterprises from a small startup into a global brand in just seven years. His success had come at a price, though. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt truly excited about anything. Work, relationships, life in general — everything had become a series of obligations and meetings.
“I’m going to review the quarterly reports,” Cassian said, reaching for the navy suitcase at his feet. “Make sure we’re not disturbed for the next hour.”
Marcus nodded and moved to the front of the cabin, leaving Cassian alone with his thoughts and his work.
Cassian unzipped the suitcase, expecting to find neatly folded dress shirts and his portfolio of documents. Instead, he froze. This wasn’t his suitcase. Inside was a soft peach-colored scarf folded carefully on top of summer dresses and casual clothes that definitely weren’t his. A weathered leather journal with pressed flowers peeking from its pages lay next to a small glass bottle of perfume.
Confused, Cassian picked up the perfume bottle. The label read jasmine and honey. Without thinking, he removed the cap and took a small sniff. The scent hit him like a physical force. Jasmine, honey, and something else — something warm and real that made his chest tighten unexpectedly. It smelled like summer evenings, like comfort, like home.
He set the bottle down carefully and noticed a small luggage tag on the handle that he’d missed before.
“Nia Brooks,” it read, with an Atlanta address and phone number.
Cassian should have been annoyed. Someone had taken his suitcase, which contained important documents for tomorrow’s meetings. Instead, he found himself picking up the journal, running his fingers over the worn leather cover. He knew he shouldn’t open it. These were someone’s private thoughts, but he couldn’t help flipping gently to where a pressed flower marked a page. A sketch of a small flower shop filled the page with notes in neat handwriting about display cases and cooler placement. “Petal and Stem expansion plan” was written across the top.
Underneath the journal was a slightly crumpled photograph. A woman stood on a beach at sunset, arms outstretched, face turned toward the ocean. Her curly hair blew in the wind, and even from the back, Cassian could tell she was laughing. He stared at the photo, then at the journal, then at the perfume. Something shifted inside him, like a door opening in a room he’d forgotten existed.
“Marcus,” he called. His assistant appeared immediately.
“Yes, sir.”
“Someone took my suitcase by mistake. I need you to contact this woman.”
He handed Marcus the luggage tag and arranged to get his bag back as soon as possible.
“Of course, I’ll take care of it right away.”
Marcus took the tag.
“Would you like me to notify the airline about the mixup?”
“No,” Cassian said more sharply than he intended. “Just contact her directly.”
After Marcus left, Cassian picked up the perfume bottle again, turning it in his hands. He shouldn’t care about the woman who owned these things. She was just a stranger who had inconvenienced him. And yet he uncapped the bottle again and breathed in the scent of jasmine and honey.
Nia arrived home dragging her suitcase up the stairs to her second-floor apartment. She kicked off her shoes at the door and pulled the suitcase to her bedroom. Too tired to unpack. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Right now, she just needed a shower and sleep.
Three hours later, she woke up feeling refreshed. Stretching, she decided to unpack before heading to her shop to check on things. She’d been closed for a week, but her assistant manager had kept the place running. Still, Nia was eager to get back to her flowers.
She unzipped the suitcase and froze. These weren’t her clothes. Instead of her summer dresses and casual wear, she found men’s dress shirts, expensive suits, and a portfolio of business documents.
“Oh no,” she whispered, frantically searching for any identification. She found a business card tucked into the portfolio. “Cassian Royce, CEO Royce Enterprises.”
Nia’s heart sank. She’d taken the wrong suitcase. And not just anyone’s suitcase, she’d taken the luggage of a CEO.
Panic rose in her chest as she reached for her phone to call the airline.
Before she could dial, her phone rang with an unknown number. She answered cautiously.
“Hello, is this Nia Brooks?” asked a polite male voice.
“Yes, it is.”
“My name is Marcus Chen. I’m calling on behalf of Cassian Roy, CEO of Royce Enterprises. It appears there’s been a mixup with Mr. Royce’s luggage at the airport today.”
Nia closed her eyes, mortified.
“I am so, so sorry. I just realized I have the wrong suitcase. I was in a hurry and they look exactly alike.”
“No need to apologize, Miss Brooks. These things happen. Mr. Royce would like to arrange a meeting to exchange the bags as soon as possible.”
“Of course, I can bring it to the airport right away.”
“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Royce will be in Atlanta tomorrow afternoon and would like to meet you at the Four Seasons Hotel downtown at 4:00 p.m. if that’s convenient.”
“Tomorrow?”
Nia had planned to spend the day at her shop, catching up after her absence, but she could hardly refuse.
“4:00 tomorrow works for me.”
“Excellent. Mr. Royce appreciates your cooperation.”
After hanging up, Nia stared at the expensive suitcase. Why would this CEO want to meet in person? Couldn’t he just send someone to pick up the bag? She hoped he wasn’t planning to sue her or something equally horrible. Her journal was in that suitcase and her favorite scarf and the perfume her grandmother had given her before she died. The thought of a stranger looking through her things made her stomach knot.
Back on his private jet, Cassian reviewed the new marketing materials Marcus had prepared for their meetings in New York, but his mind kept drifting back to the contents of the wrong suitcase, to the woman on the beach with her arms outstretched, to the scent of jasmine and honey.
“Marcus,” he said, interrupting his assistant’s detailed explanation of the presentation. “I need to be in Atlanta tomorrow.”
Marcus blinked.
“Atlanta? But the board meeting, reschedule it, and the investor lunch?”
“We’re flying to Atlanta after the marketing presentation.”
“May I ask why?”
Cassian hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure himself.
“The suitcase situation. I want to handle it personally.”
Marcus looked surprised but quickly recovered.
“Of course, I’ve already arranged a meeting with Ms. Brooks at the Four Seasons at 4 p.m. tomorrow.”
“Good,” Cassian said, turning back to the marketing materials. But he wasn’t seeing the glossy photos and carefully crafted text. He was seeing pressed flowers and a journal full of dreams. He was remembering what it felt like to be moved by something, by someone.
The next day, Nia stood nervously in the elegant lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel, Cassian Royce’s navy suitcase at her side. She dressed carefully in her most professional outfit, a simple blue dress with a cardigan, but still felt out of place among the wealthy guests and polished staff.
At exactly 4:00 p.m., the elevator doors opened and a man stepped out. Nia recognized him immediately from the photos she’d found online last night.
Cassian Royce was tall with dark hair and sharp features that made him look stern and unapproachable. He wore a perfectly tailored gray suit that probably cost more than three months of her rent. He scanned the lobby, his eyes landing on her. For a moment, he seemed to freeze. Then he walked directly toward her, followed by a man she assumed was his assistant.
“Miss Brooks,” Cassian asked, his voice deeper than she expected.
“Yes,” she said, forcing a smile despite her nerves.
“Mr. Royce, I’m so sorry about the mixup. I was in a hurry and the bags look identical.”
“And it’s fine,” he interrupted, but not unkindly. His eyes were fixed on her face with an intensity that made her words trail off. “These things happen.”
An awkward silence fell between them.
Nia gestured to the suitcase beside her.
“Well, here’s your bag. Everything should be exactly as it was.”
“Thank you,” he nodded to his assistant, who stepped forward to take the suitcase.
“And I have yours.”
The assistant produced her navy suitcase, setting it down beside her.
“I hope nothing was damaged,” Cassian said, still watching her with that strange intensity.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Nia replied, wondering why he was looking at her that way. Did she have something on her face?
Again, “I’m really sorry about the trouble.”
“No trouble,” he said.
Then unexpectedly, “Would you join me for coffee to make up for the inconvenience I’ve caused you?”
Nia blinked in surprise.
“The inconvenience you’ve caused me?”
A slight smile touched his lips.
“You had to come all the way downtown to meet a stranger when you probably had better things to do today.”
She couldn’t argue with that, though she was puzzled by his request.
“Why would Cassian Royce, billionaire CEO, want to have coffee with me?”
“I’m sure,” she said, “coffee would be nice.”
“Good.”
He turned to his assistant.
“Marcus, take the bags up to the suite. Ms. Brooks and I will be in the lobby lounge.”
Marcus nodded and disappeared with both suitcases, leaving Nia alone with Cassian.
“This way,” he said, gesturing toward the elegant lounge area.
As they walked, Nia caught a whiff of his cologne, expensive and subtle, nothing like Derek’s overpowering scent that had always given her a headache.
They sat at a quiet table in the corner.
A server appeared almost instantly to take their order.
“Just black coffee for me,” Cassian said.
“Green tea with honey, please,” Nia ordered.
When the server left, Cassian leaned forward slightly.
“So, Ms. Brooks?”
“Nia, please,” she interrupted. “Miss Brooks makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”
That slight smile appeared again.
“Nia, tell me about yourself.”
The directness of the question caught her off guard.
“There’s not much to tell. I own a small flower shop in Inman Park. I just got back from my first vacation in years. Barbados.”
He said near tensed.
“How did you know that?”
Cassian hesitated, looking almost embarrassed.
“Your luggage tag had a Barbados sticker on it.”
“Oh, right.”
She relaxed slightly.
“It was beautiful there, peaceful.”
And the flower shop, Petal and Stem.
Now she was definitely suspicious.
“You looked through my things.”
It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway.
“I saw the journal. I apologize. I was trying to figure out whose bag I had.”
Nia should have been angry, but something in his expression stopped her. He didn’t look like an arrogant CEO right now. He looked like someone who had found something unexpected and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
Their drinks arrived, giving Nia a moment to gather her thoughts. She added honey to her tea, stirring slowly.
“Yes, I own Petal and Stem,” she finally said. “It’s small, but it’s mine. I opened it three years ago.”
“And the expansion plans?”
She looked up sharply.
“You read my journal.”
“Just the page that was marked,” he admitted. “I’m sorry that was invasive.”
“It was,” but Nia found herself answering anyway.
“I’m hoping to expand next year, add a small cafe section if I can get the financing.”
Cassian took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving her face.
“It’s a good idea. Flowers and coffee complement each other.”
“They do,” she agreed, studying him curiously.
“But I doubt you asked me for coffee to discuss my business plans.”
“No,” he said simply. “Then your perfume?”
“My perfume? Jasmine and honey. It’s unusual.”
Nia felt herself blush.
“It was my grandmother’s recipe. She used to make it herself. After she died, I found someone who could recreate it for me.”
“It’s beautiful,” Cassian said quietly.
Something in his voice made Nia look up and meet his gaze directly for the first time. What she saw there surprised her. Not the cold calculation she had expected from a businessman, but something warmer, something almost vulnerable.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
They sat in silence for a moment, the busy hotel lobby fading into the background.
“I have a proposition for you,” Cassian finally said.
“Royce Enterprises is launching a new line of home products next month. Candles, linens, decorative items. We want to incorporate floral elements in our marketing, but our current team is producing work that feels…” He paused, searching for the right word.
“Artificial,” Nia suggested.
His eyes met hers, and something passed between them. A moment of understanding.
“Exactly. I want something real, something that makes people feel something when they see it.”
He showed her photos of the current designs, sleek, perfect, and utterly soulless.
“They’re technically good,” Nia said diplomatically. “But they lack warmth.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell my marketing department.”
Cassian put away his phone.
“I’d like you to redesign our floral elements for the campaign. Create arrangements that tell a story, that feel honest, as you put it.”
Nia’s mind was already racing with ideas, but caution held her back.
“I don’t have experience with corporate campaigns.”
“That’s exactly why I want you. You haven’t been trained to create what’s expected. You create what feels right.”
The conviction in his voice was flattering, but still Nia hesitated.
“I’d have to continue running my shop. I can’t just drop everything.”
“Of course, this would be part-time consulting. You’d work directly with me. No committees, no corporate red tape. Directly with you.”
That wasn’t what Nia had expected.
“Don’t you have more important things to do than oversee a floral design consultant?”
Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, perhaps?
“I make time for things that matter.”
Before Nia could process what that might mean, the bell above the door chimed again.
A middle-aged woman entered, glancing curiously between Nia and Cassian.
“Hello, Mrs. Patterson.”
Nia greeted her regular customer.
“Your weekly arrangement is ready.”
As Nia helped Mrs. Patterson, she was acutely aware of Cassian moving around her shop, examining everything with those observant eyes.
When Mrs. Patterson left with her flowers, he was standing by the small desk in the corner, looking at a framed photo.
“Is this your grandmother?” he asked.
Nia joined him, surprised.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“You have the same smile.”
He set the frame down carefully.
“She’s the one who made the perfume?”
“Yes, she taught me everything I know about flowers. She believed they speak a language all their own.”
Nia touched the frame gently.
“She died three years ago just before I opened this place.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassian said quietly.
He seemed about to say more but instead asked,
“Have you decided about the consulting position?”
Nia took a deep breath.
Every practical part of her said this was too strange, too sudden.
But something else, something deeper was pulling her toward this opportunity, toward him.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
The smile that spread across his face transformed him completely.
For a moment, Nia glimpsed what Cassian Royce might look like if he smiled more often.
“Good,” he said. “We can start next week. I’ll have Marcus draw up a contract.”
“I have one condition,” Nia said, surprising herself with her boldness.
Cassian raised an eyebrow.
“And that is?”
“Tell me why you really offered me this job. It wasn’t just because you saw my pressed flowers. For a long moment, Cassian was silent, his expression unreadable. Then he picked up his water bottle, took a sip, and set it down deliberately.
“When I opened your suitcase,” he finally said, “I found something I didn’t know I was looking for.”
“What was that?”
His eyes met hers, direct and honest.
“A reminder that there are still things in this world that can surprise me. Move me.”
He gestured around the shop.
“You’ve created something real here, Nia. Something honest. That’s rare in my world.”
The simple truth in his words took her breath away.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Cassian nodded once, then glanced at his watch.
“I should go. I have a dinner meeting.”
“Of course.”
Nia walked him to the door, suddenly aware of how much taller he was, how his presence filled her small shop in a way that should have been intimidating but somehow wasn’t.
At the door, he turned to face her.
“I’ll have Marcus send you the details tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He hesitated, then added,
“The perfume, the jasmine and honey. Do you wear it often?”
The unexpected question made Nia blush.
“Sometimes when I want to remember her?”
Cassian nodded, a slight smile touching his lips.
“It suits you.”
And then he was gone, leaving Nia standing in her doorway, wondering what had just happened and why she couldn’t stop smiling.
Over the next two weeks, Nia’s life settled into a new rhythm. By day, she worked at her flower shop; by evening, she devoted time to her consulting project with Royce Enterprises and met Cassian for dinner three times a week—twice at quiet restaurants and once at his apartment.
Each meeting revealed new facets of Cassian. How he drank his black coffee without sugar, the gentle tone he used when speaking about his mother who raised him alone, his habit of running five miles every morning rain or shine to clear his mind. With every detail, Nia found herself drawn deeper to this complex man who seemed equally captivated by her simple life.
“You’re different when you’re not in the office,” she said one Sunday afternoon as they strolled through Piedmont Park, each holding a cup of coffee.
“How so?” he asked.
“Relaxed. Real.”
Cassian considered her words.
“And with you? Is that a different persona?”
He stopped and turned to face her.
“No. Not with you.”
The sincerity in his eyes made her heart race.
She wanted to believe him, but doubt lingered.
“Men like you don’t usually fall for women like me. There has to be a catch.”
“The photo in your suitcase,” he said suddenly. “The one of you on the beach. You look happy.”
“I used to be,” Nia admitted. “That was the first morning in Barbados. I’d never seen the Caribbean before. It felt like freedom.”
“Who took the picture?”
“A woman I met at the hotel. She saw me standing there and offered to take it.”
Cassian nodded, apparently satisfied.
They walked quietly, close but not touching, until Cassian’s phone rang.
He frowned at the screen.
“I have to take this. Marcus. Sorry.”
Nia stepped a few feet away to give him space.
She watched families playing Frisbee, couples holding hands, dogs chasing balls—ordinary Sunday scenes.
Walking in the park with a billionaire CEO was not ordinary. Yet somehow, it felt right.
Cassian returned, looking apologetic.
“Sorry, I have to go. There’s an issue with the Tokyo office on Sunday.”
Business didn’t recognize weekends.
He hesitated.
“I want to see you again tomorrow.”
Monday was her only day off from the shop.
“I have errands to run.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Nia laughed.
“You want to help me pick garden soil and groceries?”
“Exactly.”
And so Cassian Royce, CEO of a global brand, pushed a shopping cart at the garden supply store the next day, wearing jeans and a baseball cap to blend in.
“People are staring,” Nia whispered as they chose bags of soil.
“Let them look,” he said, effortlessly lifting a 40-pound bag into the cart.
Later, at the grocery store, he insisted on cooking dinner for her that night. “At your place,” he said. “I want to see where you live.”
Nia hesitated. Her apartment was small and modest, nothing like his sleek home, but she was curious what he’d think.
“Alright, but don’t expect much.”
Her apartment was on the second floor of a converted Victorian house in a quiet neighborhood. Unlocking the door, a wave of nervousness hit her.
“Not much, but it’s home.”
Cassian stepped inside, looking around the cozy living room with mismatched furniture, a tiny kitchen with plants on the windowsill, walls covered in botanical prints and family photos.
“Perfect,” he said sincerely. “It suits you.”
Nia exhaled in relief.
“Thank you.”
As Cassian cooked pasta sauce in her tiny kitchen, the aroma filled the air. Nia set the small dining table in the corner.
The scene was unexpectedly domestic. This powerful man rolling up his sleeves and stirring sauce in her little kitchen looked more relaxed than ever.
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“From my mother. Then in college, I worked part-time in a restaurant kitchen.”
He tasted the sauce and added salt.
“Cooking relaxes me, like flowers do for you.”
Dinner was delicious, conversation easy. Afterwards, they settled on her small couch, glasses of wine in hand.
Cassian’s gaze lingered on a photo of Nia with the elderly woman.
“Is that your grandmother?”
Nia nodded.
“That picture was taken the day I signed the lease on this shop. She was so proud.”
“She should be,” Cassian said earnestly. “You’ve built something special.”
“Just a small flower shop.”
“No. It’s where you share your passion and make people’s lives better, even if just a little.”
He set his glass down.
“That matters, Nia. More than you know.”
The intensity in his voice made her look up.
He met her gaze with deep, dark eyes as if seeing into her soul.
“Why me, Cassian?”
She asked softly.
“Among all the women in Atlanta, in the world, why are you here in my apartment on a Monday night?”
He was silent for a long moment, then said,
“Because when I opened your suitcase and smelled your perfume, something happened.”
His voice was low, almost a confession.
“For the first time in years, I felt awake.”
“Awake? Like I’d been asleep my whole life, and suddenly someone shook me awake.”
He stepped closer, hand gently brushing her cheek.
Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss was soft at first, a question.
When Nia responded by threading her fingers through his hair, it deepened, growing more urgent and passionate.
His arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her close, and she melted into his embrace, all doubts momentarily forgotten.
When they parted, breathless, Cassian rested his forehead against hers.
“That,” he whispered, “is what I felt.”
The next morning, Nia woke with a smile. Cassian had left late after hours of talking and kissing that left her dizzy.
He was a gentleman, never pretending to stay overnight, though his eyes said otherwise.
“I want to do this right,” he said before leaving, cupping her face.
“You’re not a fleeting conquest, Nia.”
“You can’t be that.”
“From the moment I opened your suitcase and inhaled your scent, you became the only woman in the world for me.”
His words unlocked something inside her.
All the fear, doubt, and insecurity Derek left behind began to fade.
“Yes,” she whispered softly. “I want to come home with you.”
The days that followed were a whirlwind of new emotions and tentative steps. Cassian and Nia began to explore their relationship beyond business and casual meetings. He was patient, never rushing, always attentive to her pace and comfort.
One evening, as autumn leaves drifted lazily outside her shop window, Cassian surprised Nia by showing up with two tickets to the Atlanta Botanical Garden’s seasonal light display.
“I thought it might be nice to get away from work and the shop for a night,” he said, handing her a small bouquet of her favorite wildflowers.
Nia smiled, touched by the gesture.
At the garden, they wandered hand in hand through illuminated paths, the glow of thousands of tiny lights reflecting in their eyes. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist.
“Do you ever think about what comes next?” Nia asked quietly.
Cassian stopped and looked at her, his expression serious.
“Every day. But I don’t want to rush anything. I want this—us—to be real. No games, no pretenses.”
She nodded, feeling the weight of his words.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Scared of losing myself. Of being hurt again.”
He squeezed her hand gently.
“I’m not here to hurt you. I want to build something that lasts.”
The sincerity in his voice was undeniable.
As they continued their walk, Nia felt a cautious hope blooming inside her. Maybe, just maybe, this time love could be different.
Back at the shop the next morning, Nia found a note slipped under the door.
“Lunch tomorrow? My place. 12:30. —Cassian”
Her heart fluttered. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, it felt full of promise.
Would you like me to keep going?
yes
GPT-4.1 mini
Certainly! Here’s the continuation of the story:
The next day, Nia arrived at Cassian’s sleek downtown apartment just before noon, carrying a small bouquet of freshly picked daisies. Cassian greeted her at the door with a warm smile and a casual hug that made her heart skip.
“Perfect timing,” he said, leading her inside. The apartment was spacious and filled with light, decorated with understated elegance and hints of greenery that reminded her of her own shop.
In the kitchen, Cassian was already preparing lunch—a simple but delicious-looking spread of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a fresh salad.
“I hope you like Mediterranean,” he said, noticing her curious gaze.
“I love it,” Nia replied, settling at the island counter.
As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, ranging from favorite books to childhood memories. Cassian told her about growing up in a small town in New England before moving to Atlanta for business school. Nia shared stories about her grandmother and the flower shop’s humble beginnings.
After lunch, Cassian suggested they take a walk along the nearby riverfront. The sun was warm but softened by a gentle breeze, and the city skyline shimmered in the distance.
Walking side by side, Nia felt the barriers she’d built around her heart slowly melting away. Cassian’s presence was steadying, comforting.
Stopping on a bench overlooking the water, Cassian turned to her.
“Nia, I know this is all new and maybe a little overwhelming. But I want you to know, I’m serious about us.”
She looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt.
“I believe you,” she said softly.
He reached out and took her hand, fingers intertwining naturally.
“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”
For the first time in a long while, Nia felt hopeful about the future—not just for her shop or her career, but for love.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, they sat quietly, hands clasped, hearts open.
As time passed, the relationship between Nia and Cassian grew deeper. They faced challenges together, shared joys and sorrows, and built a sincere and lasting love.
Nia realized that beside Cassian, she had found not only a life partner but also a companion who strengthened her in every aspect of life.
One warm evening under the soft glow of the flower shop’s lights, Cassian knelt before Nia, holding a small, delicate ring.
“Nia, will you marry me? Will you build a future full of love and happiness with me?”
Tears of joy streamed down Nia’s cheeks as she nodded without hesitation.
They embraced, knowing that the journey ahead wouldn’t always be easy, but with love and trust, they could overcome anything.
From that moment on, Nia and Cassian began a new chapter in their lives, nurturing happiness and shared dreams together.
