The days passed slowly, like the soft blooming of a flower, as Katrina continued to see Daniel every morning. He came in, bought his white lilies, and left just as quickly, his routine unchanging. But something had shifted between them.
Katrina couldn't quite explain it, but every time she saw him, the silence between them didn't feel as heavy. There was a quiet understanding in the air like they were both waiting for the right moment to speak the words that had been hanging unsaid for so long.
One morning, as Katrina arranged some daisies near the counter, Daniel came in as usual. But this time, he seemed different. He looked tired, more worn than usual, and his eyes were a little red as if he hadn't slept well.
"Daniel," she said, her voice soft but with a hint of concern. "Are you okay?"
He looked at her, his face unreadable for a moment. Then, as if he couldn't hold it in any longer, he let out a small sigh. "No," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "I'm not okay."
Katrina's heart tightened. This wasn't the man she had been seeing every day—this was someone who was struggling in ways she couldn't imagine.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her hand pausing as she arranged the flowers. She felt her heart racing, unsure of what he might say but hoping, just for a moment, that he might let her in.
For a long moment, Daniel didn't say anything. He just stood there, looking at her, as if he were searching for the words. Katrina waited, her breath shallow.
Finally, he spoke. "I don't know how to let go." His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that was becoming more familiar with each visit. "I keep bringing the lilies to her grave because... I don't know how to stop. I keep thinking that if I stop, I'll forget her. And I can't forget her. Not like this. Not when she was everything to me."
Katrina felt a lump form in her throat. She could hear the raw pain in his words, the weight of the grief he was carrying. But she also heard something else—something more fragile. "Daniel, you don't have to forget her," she said gently, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. "You can keep her in your heart. But maybe... maybe it's time to let go of the routine, of the promise that's keeping you trapped."
His eyes flickered with a mix of confusion and fear. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she said softly, walking closer to him, "that you're living for a memory. And while memories are important, they can't define your whole life. It's okay to move forward. Emily wouldn't want you to stay stuck."
Daniel's shoulders slumped, and he looked down, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of the counter. "I don't know how to move forward. I've been stuck for so long that I don't even know where to begin."
Katrina felt a surge of compassion for him. She had seen people grieve before, but this was different. Daniel wasn't just mourning someone he had loved—he was mourning the life he had lost, the future that would never come.
"Moving forward doesn't mean forgetting," she said, her voice gentle. "It just means making room for the future. For new things. It doesn't have to be all at once. It can happen one small step at a time."
Daniel looked at her, his eyes full of doubt. "And what if I'm not ready for that?"
"That's okay too," she replied, her tone soft but firm. "You don't have to be ready right now. But maybe... just maybe, you can start thinking about what comes next."
There was a long silence, and for the first time in days, Katrina noticed a flicker of something other than sadness in Daniel's eyes—hope. It was brief, just a glimmer, but it was there.
He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right."
Katrina smiled, relief washing over her. "You don't have to do it alone, Daniel. You don't have to carry all of this by yourself."
He seemed to consider her words for a moment, then nodded again. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I'm... I'm going to try. I think I need to try."
As Daniel left the shop that morning, something inside Katrina shifted. She could see it now—the first step in his journey to healing. It wasn't going to be easy, and it wasn't going to happen overnight. But at least now, Daniel had taken the first step.
Katrina watched him disappear down the street, heading toward the cemetery and felt a strange mix of hope and uncertainty. She knew he wasn't going to forget Emily—he didn't have to. But maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to live again, to feel something other than the crushing weight of the past.
And perhaps, in time, she could help him do that.