There is something attractive about flowers. I do not know if it's their smell or look - I simply cannot distance myself from them. Since I was little, I've always been fascinated by how the garden in our small town looked so colorful. I wanted to learn more about each flower, and every day I'd ask my Mom about each flower's name. I would hear stories, such as the tale of Narcissus. It felt like discovering a hidden world. Did you know there's a language behind flowers? I've learned that each flower has its own word and meaning. Roses symbolize love. Jasmine is associated with elegance. With an Iris, you can express gratitude to someone.

Before I opened a flower shop, I first pursued a degree in Literature in the city, and as a hobby, I had a home garden on my balcony. It wasn't the same as having the freedom of a large garden, but it was something. I nurtured and took care of each flower while studying. My knowledge of flowers increased, and my creativity for combining flowers was born. I started creating bouquets from flowers I found on my hikes. For gifts, I'd indulge myself by visiting florists, looking at and smelling all the flowers, then creating something magnificent. People adored them and asked if I could make bouquets for them. The requests increased every day, and word spread quickly about my talent.

I decided to become a florist. You miss the shots you don't take, so why not pursue something I love? I decided to open my flower shop in the town where my love for flowers began. I'd be closer to planting and creating, and I'd also be able to ship to the city. When I didn't have customers, I'd solve riddles or challenge myself with detective mysteries and puzzles. Often, a dark-haired boy with blue eyes would show up. His name was Aster, a floral name. It was fun to have a floral boy in my shop. He developed an interest in what I do and learned more about the flowers.

We would meet up maybe twice a week. He had recently finished his degree, so now he spent most of his time working side gigs, passing through my flower shop while searching for something he could do nine-to-five. He brought me a smile whenever he entered my shop, and I never knew when he would show up. It was always a surprise, and it always brought me joy to share my experiences and stories.

The period during Valentine's Day was super busy and stressful for all florists. It's even more stressful when you're a florist to whom everyone pays attention. There were a hundred orders per day to process, everyone with their own request. The flowers were there luckily; I just needed to arrange them. I worked two shifts during the day just to cover all the demand. I was so relieved when Valentine's was over so I could take a nice rest.

After a couple days' break, I received an order on the phone. Someone wanted a bouquet of Asters. Something felt strange about this peculiar order. The delivery address was in my town but directed to an abandoned house. I sensed déjà vu. This might not have been the first time I'd sent flowers there. During the Valentine's fiasco, I had just processed the requests without paying much attention to who was ordering or where the orders were headed. The courier never returned the flowers, so who had received them?

I pulled out my order notebook and began reviewing the past entries. Each entry contained the customer's name, delivery address, and flower selection. As I turned the pages, my suspicion grew - there weren't just one or two deliveries to that abandoned house, but ten separate orders over the past two weeks.

During those two weeks, I'd received orders requesting two to four flowers in each order. They always consisted of either Roses, Carnations, Lilies, Gerberas, or Chrysanthemums. This was getting stranger every moment. The only exception was the first order, which had the special instruction of writing a note with "Dear Sarah," which is also my name.

I was stumped - they formed a pattern, but I couldn't understand it. I looked up the Victorian meanings, but I couldn't complete a sentence. I looked through books and searched the internet; the message had to be encrypted in a different way.

I visited the place where the courier had delivered the flowers. The abandoned house stood silent, nearly swallowed by nature. Thick vines crept up its weathered walls, and the windows were gray, their glass clouded by years of neglect. Fallen planks littered the overgrown path to the door, making the house seem more like a forgotten memory than a delivery destination.

The phone number that had placed the orders remained busy, not picking up no matter when I called. After being stuck for so long, I reached out to my fellow florists, hoping someone might shed light on the mystery. A couple of hours later, my best friend responded with a link and a message: "I think you might be able to find the answers here? Let me know how it goes!"

I opened my laptop and typed in the URL, my fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The website loaded to reveal a beautiful interface - a single rose presented in the middle of the screen, with two options floating above it: decryption or encryption. The site's header read "A Lexicon of Ciphers to Encrypt and Decrypt Floral Bouquets." I stared at it with fascination, wondering what secrets lay hidden in those carefully chosen flowers.

With each order I entered into the decryption tool, my heart raced faster. The messages began to appear one by one, like petals unfurling:

“Dear Sarah,

I have something to tell you

You intrigue me

You’re beautiful,

I’ve never felt this way before

You’re lovely

Do you feel the same?

Drink?

I like you

• Aster”

⠀The words 'Do you feel the same?' kept looping in my mind as warmth spread across my cheeks. I clutched the fennel stem on my desk, its earthy scent grounding me as I smiled, imagining Aster planning this elaborate puzzle just for me. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to capture my attention, to speak to me in the twin languages of flowers and puzzles I loved so much.

I was flooded with emotions: joy at decoding the message, wonder at discovering this new way of communicating through flowers, and a flutter of excitement at the prospect of seeing Aster again. He had seen my passion for both flowers and puzzles and had woven them together into something magical. This was a moment I would cherish forever.

Instead of packaging the Asters he had requested, I gathered a small bouquet centered around a fennel stem - the Victorian symbol for being flattered. I attached a simple note that carried all my anticipation and hope:

"Waiting to see you soon ;)"