Maude ran until her breath burned in her throat, only stopping when she reached the edge of the rose garden. Her face was flushed, her chest heaving. She suddenly realized she was still holding his hand—and let go as if she’d touched something hot.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I got carried away… I didn’t mean to be rude.”

She sighed softly as she tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ear and pulled her straw hat down low. She tied the ribbon beneath her chin so tightly that her eyes were barely visible. Then, fumbling for something, she pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to him.

“Um… I forgot to return the one you lent me, so… please use this instead.”

Her voice was small, almost swallowed by the noise of the crowd. 

“My hands… they get sweaty easily.”

“I’ll keep this for now,” Kyle said simply, taking the handkerchief and slipping it into his jacket pocket. It still carried the faint, sweet scent of the peaches she had once wrapped in it.

Her head bobbed in a little nod, the wide brim of her hat bouncing along. She still hid her face beneath it, but he could imagine her expression easily enough—her cheeks red as roses, her lips caught in a shy frown.

Kyle’s lips curved faintly. For her, it must’ve been a terribly awkward moment, but from where he stood, it wasn’t unpleasant to watch. As his gaze drifted past the garden of roses, he ran a hand through his hair. The glass roof of the greenhouse shimmered in the sunlight. Perhaps it was better they hadn’t gone inside—no doubt the other men were still busy flirting beneath the chestnut trees.

He frowned slightly. 

“We should probably avoid this place from now on.”

“I’ll remember that,” she murmured.

Her tired voice carried a sigh, and for a moment, the air felt heavy. Kyle’s eyes swept around the area and caught sight of a row of flower stalls along the canal. Petals in every color imaginable painted the view like a rainbow.

Since she liked flowers, this would do. He was about to speak when he noticed her hands again—constantly fidgeting, rubbing her palms together as if she couldn’t bear to keep still.

Without a word, Kyle pulled her handkerchief back out, walked to the fountain, and soaked it in the cool water.

“The water’s clean enough,” he said.

He wrung it out gently and laid it across her hands. The cool touch made her blink in surprise.

“Should I wipe them for you?” he asked casually.

Her eyes widened. “N-No! That’s— that’s fine!”

Snatching the handkerchief from him, she began furiously drying her hands, her movements small and flustered.

Kyle watched her quietly. 

‘My kind, earnest… lover.’

The word sounded strange in his head, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

He tilted her hat up slightly. 

“Don’t you think it’s time you showed me your face?”

The shadow lifted, revealing her clear, rosy cheeks—softly glowing, like flower petals touched by the sun. For some reason, time itself seemed to slow around them.

Leaving behind the noise of the garden, he took her hand again, guiding it gently. 

“If you spread it wide, it’ll dry faster.”

The thin cloth of the handkerchief was warm between their palms. She flinched at the contact, her face twisting in confusion.

She turned her head away, missing the faint smile that crept onto his lips. His soft laugh drifted through the summer breeze.

***

“I think… it was just a bad dream,” she said at last.

Her tone was calm, though it was obvious she was referring to what had happened behind the chestnut tree that night. Yet the gentle way he traced his fingers along her hand told a different story.

“The thing is,” he said, his voice even, “you were the one who held my hand first.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. Kyle continued slowly, his words deliberate.

“And you were the one who leaned in first, too.”

Her mouth fell open, disbelief flashing across her face. 

“Wh—what are you even saying?! That’s not— I didn’t—!”

Unfazed, Kyle went on, “If you treat me like some kind of scoundrel, I might start sympathizing with those poor men you made cry.”

“That’s—! They had it coming! And that’s not the point!”

Her voice rose with indignation. His teasing words stung, but more than that, they brought a flush to her cheeks that she couldn’t hide. The heat she thought had faded came rushing back.

She remembered all the reckless things she’d said to him before—

“Just one day, please, let me have you all to myself.”

“You’re mine. Don’t let anyone else touch you.”

Just recalling them made her want to crawl into a hole. If she could, she would’ve taken every word back and buried it.

The truth was, she had never dated anyone before. Everything about this was unfamiliar. She’d grown up sheltered, unaccustomed to anything impolite or crude—and he was neither. That, she realized, was the problem.

Her heart reacted before her mind could.

“If he’s handsome, it’s romance,” Sarah used to tease her. “No matter what he does.”

And now, for the first time, Maude understood exactly what her friend had meant.

Fake or not, this was romance.

Like a beggar boy playing prince for just a while, she had stumbled into a fairytale moment she didn’t want to end.

She swallowed her sigh, glancing at him again. He was still holding her hand, still tracing gentle circles against her skin, oblivious to her growing unease. The roses around them were long forgotten.

Kyle watched her in silence. She was easy to read—her face, her thoughts, her every attempt to hide her nerves. At least when she was with him.

Her lips kept parting and closing, as though she was looking for a way out of the conversation. The warmth from their joined hands seeped through her wrist, tinged with the sweetness of summer figs.

It was a scent he’d grown used to—a scent he would recognize anywhere.

And maybe, he thought, it was a scent he would someday miss.

“The coolness won’t last long,” he said finally, reaching for the ribbon at her wrist. “But it’s better than holding it bare.”

When she looked down, a ribbon had appeared there, tied in a neat bow. It wasn’t perfect—his handiwork was a little clumsy—but it suited her somehow.

She laughed, bright and light, like fireworks scattering across the night sky.

“You’re quite good at this,” she said softly. “Your handiwork, I mean.”

Her touch on the loose ends of the ribbon was gentle, her smile radiant. Kyle looked away, unable to hide the faint curve of his own lips.

Maybe, he thought, he just wanted to see her smile again.

After all, that smile suited her best. And for a summer night as beautiful as this one, no other reason was needed.

He gave a small, polite bow. 

“You flatter me, Miss Maude.”