The flower shop was quiet again.
But this time, it wasn't peaceful.
Every sound — the hum of the fridge, the ticking clock, the bell above the door — made Jung Yena flinch.
Haejin hadn't come in for three nights.
Not at midnight.
Not at all.
She told herself it didn't matter.
She lied.
Because in that silence, she felt something shifting. Not just in the air, but inside her — like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for the truth to unravel.
---
Min Seojun leaned against the counter, watching her arrange a bouquet she wasn't focused on.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
She didn't answer at first.
Then: "Do you believe in ghosts?"
Seojun blinked. "Like… actual spirits?"
She shook her head. "No. I mean the kind that live in people."
The kind that wear your brother's face.
The kind that scream in your dreams.
The kind that look at you like they know.
---
Later that evening, the door opened.
Yena's chest tightened.
It wasn't Haejin.
It was a delivery guy — with a bouquet order from the Lee family.
White camellias. Again.
Her fingers trembled as she packed them into the box.
When the guy left, she sat alone in the dim shop, staring at the display fridge.
White. Camellias. Always.
A question haunted her:
Did Haejin start buying them because of Doyun... or because of her?
---
Across the city, Seri sat in her apartment, phone in hand.
The screen glowed, inbox still open —
but there was no message from Yena.
Just the memory of what Yena had said days ago, in the back room of the flower shop:
"You all had your secrets, Seri. I just kept mine quieter."
Seri hadn't replied then.
She didn't know how to.
Because Yena was right.
And Seri had kept something even Yena didn't know.
---
That night, the shop bell rang again.
Yena's hands froze mid-cleanup.
Slowly, she turned.
And there he was.
Haejin.
Soaked in rain again, black coat buttoned up tight.
His eyes met hers.
No words.
Just silence.
But this time, she didn't look away.
He stepped forward, slow, careful.
"I remembered something," he said finally. "That night."
Yena didn't speak.
"I wasn't the only one shouting."
Her throat tightened.
"I heard his voice," he said. "But I also heard yours."
Yena's knees nearly gave out.
"I told myself it wasn't real. That you weren't there."
He looked down.
"But I saw you. You were crying. You were scared. Just like me."
She took a step back, but he didn't move closer.
"I don't know what happened to him that night, Yena. But I know one thing now."
He looked up again — and this time, he didn't look angry.
Just tired.
Broken.
"We're not haunted by each other..."
"We're haunted by what we never said."
---
Outside, the rain fell again.
But it no longer felt like a curse.
It felt like something was being washed away.
And in that moment, neither of them turned to leave.
Because for the first time since the night Doyun died—
They weren't hiding anymore.
---
From a distance, across the street…
Someone watched them from a parked car.
In their hand was an old photograph and in it was Doyun, Seri, and a blurry girl in a familiar hoodie.
The figure lit a match beneath the photo.
And smiled.