A few days later, he finally went back to the flower shop, only to see the pot of hyacinths on the counter had already withered.
"She's gone out of town," the clerk told him. "It was a last-minute trip. She should be back in a few days."
Leo froze, a pang in his chest. In that moment, he realized he hadn't refused just a trip but a possible connection.
That night, he sat alone in his studio. The bouquet of flowers he had bought was on the table, now completely dry. The petals were curled, their color faded. He couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if he had said yes.
But the world has no "if."
He looked at the withered flowers as if he were looking at himself—a man who had knocked over his cup, fixated on the spilled water, and ignored the cups that were still standing beside him.
Yes, he had lost something, but he hadn't lost everything. He just wasn't ready to see the two cups that remained.
【Echo from the Mirror】
When you lament what's lost, do you forget that possibilities still remain behind you? Regret is the moment the cup spills, but by turning around, you might find an unseen blessing.