Love in the Maze of Misunderstandings:

My crush confessed his feelings for me.

He handed me chrysanthemums while whispering morbid sweet nothings. My rose-tinted image of him shattered instantly.

I realized I needed to seriously reevaluate our relationship.

1

As a tattoo artist, I made my living fulfilling client commissions.

My newest client was an aloof, strikingly handsome young man.

Dressed in a crisp white shirt and tailored trousers, his slender frame stood nearly 190cm tall. But it was those attentive eyes - gazing at me with such intensity - that truly captivated.

Billy Russo struck my heartstrings the moment we met.

Yet no amount of beauty could compensate for his constant rejections of my designs.

His request seemed simple. "Traditional and elegant," he said.

Plenty of creative freedom, I thought.

Until he added, "It needs to feel right."

I could give him a "feeling" alright-the satisfying feeling of smacking him with a hammer.

Those expressive eyes of his suggested he knew his demands were unreasonable.

As if I'd compromise my standards for a pretty face!

Okay, maybe I would.

I mentally chastised myself for such weakness.

But business was business-deposit accepted, I was committed to satisfying this difficult client.

Yet satisfaction eluded him.

He'd ruthlessly reject my work, then disarm me with dimpled smiles and dinner invitations.

What a smooth operator.

With no deadline pressure, our sessions blurred until I nearly forgot our professional relationship.

I'd send designs whenever inspiration struck, essentially writing off the final payment. Clearly, he wanted more than tattoos. Maybe he wanted me.

That last thought was pure self-delusion.

Still, I secretly fantasized that after all this time, he might offer himself as compensation.

Everything changed when another client requested home delivery of their design.

Returning to campus months after graduation felt surreal.

The same two geese still battled in the lake, pink blossoms adorned the paths, couples filled the quad, while I remained painfully single.

Then I spotted a familiar-looking couple.

The man resembled one of my crushes; the woman, my arch-nemesis, Jenny Curtis.

I hurried over, wanting to get a closer look from the front.

"How long must I keep deceiving Nina?" Billy's voice carried clearly.

Ice flooded my veins. Nina referred to me, Nina Jones.

So what did Billy deceive me about?

"No way, you can't tell her the truth yet. This is not the right time!" That was the voice of Jenny.

I nearly confronted them, but stopped - what right did I have? He'd never made me any promises, after all.

Back at my shop, I mourned my past of romance.

Whenever he came, his eyes were glued to me. All those lingering gazes, those meaningful glances I'd mistaken for affection-just deception.

He seemed to show such affection for me, I thought we shared a silent understanding, but now it was all fake.

What a fool I'd been.

2

Determined not to jump to conclusions, I investigated further.

Returning to school, I was lucky enough to bump into a junior who was infatuated with Billy.

From her, I easily gathered all the information.

Campus gossip revealed Billy was an archaeology junior, the department celebrity who'd already secured a government position before graduating.

My heart shattered anew.

Having tattoos for cultural relic workers was normal. Because they had witnessed countless relics to inspire them. How could he give me such a vague demand without a single detail?

He'd paid only a deposit while stealing my heart.

No way, the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't swallow this indignation. Unforgivable!

Want to play games? Fine, I'll play his game.

When he next entered my shop, I radiated hostility.

I glanced at him, pretending he didn't exist, radiating an unwelcoming aura from head to toe.

"Final design," I declared, sliding over a folder. "Take it or find another artist."

His panicked expression was priceless. I would give him an Oscar nomination for it.

He should join the drama department.

Archaeology? That was not his thing.

Under my "final design" threat, Billy wisely approved the draft and transferred the final payment on the spot.

No matter what, getting paid was always a pleasant thing.

I immediately changed my attitude, enthusiastically recommending a tattoo parlor I believed had exceptional skills.

Get my phone camera ready; I must capture his desperate attempts to refuse and turn them into memes.

For someone aloof like him, such an expression would be priceless.

"This place, the owner is a tattooed lady, and her skills are top-notch. I got my tattoo from her."

I rolled up my sleeve to show my cloud-patterned temporary tattoo, watching his face turned pale.

This prude couldn't even distinguish real tattoos from stickers, yet he wanted to trick me.

Feigning ignorance of his reluctance, I said, "If you don't like this place, I have plenty more to recommend, like..."

"Enough." Billy suddenly snapped.

How should I put it? It was like a wolf in sheep's clothing baring its teeth at you. A wolf in sheep's clothing is still a wolf, so I took it as him being playful.

After baring his teeth, Billy looked guilty and mumbled an apology, "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I actually wanted to say..."

I interrupted his apology, "It's okay, darling, I'm not mad."

Billy blushed.

His delicate skin turned a shade of rosy pink, like an angel from above descending for me. How could mere words describe such beauty?

I swallowed hard.

"No, Nina," I steeled myself, "it was just a stupid desire."

After silently reciting every calming mantra I knew, I snapped the portfolio shut with practiced cheerfulness.

"Since my recommendations don't suit you," my smile sharpened, "let's visit the parlors in person. We can ink you immediately if you find one you like."

The panic flashing across his face was priceless. I nearly laughed aloud as he fled.

"Try deceiving me again, and I'll personally tattoo 'liar' across your forehead." I thought to myself.

3

I spoke too soon. This seemingly innocent man possessed astonishing audacity.

Not twenty-four hours after his retreat, Billy launched an overt courtship campaign.

I'd offered mercy. Why couldn't he accept it gracefully?

My refusal was immediate.Men never valued what came too easily - a universal truth.

Predictably, he persisted.

Daily flower deliveries arrived like clockwork. Tongue-tied, he'd adopted the language of blooms for his declarations.

Such trite, impersonal gestures earned only my contempt.

Yet he waited- first lingering outside my door, then leaning against the frame, eventually sitting patiently on the steps.

His dedication would be admirable... if not utterly misguided.

Couldn't this fool take a hint? No wonder he was single.

Why help Jenny sabotage me? The risks outweighed any possible reward.

Speaking of my nemesis, Jenny Curtis, I delightedly gave a thumb up to her social media posts.

Her brother's refusal to inherit their father's restaurant chain forced her into culinary training.

Poetic justice. May she inherit ten more siblings like his brother.

The next morning, I opened the shop door, and Billy waited as usual, this time clutching blue cornflowers, which were my favorite.

I braced for the standard "you bring me joy" floral cliché.

Instead, he hesitated, then blurted, "I love winter snow, summer rain, and you among chrysanthemums in monochrome."

Wait, excuse me?

My stunned silence apparently encouraged him. Horror mounted as he continued, "Carry my ashes. If danger comes, scatter them. Against the wind - my final embrace. With the wind-my last protection."

How could such icy words emerge from warm lips?

Chrysanthemums were shoved toward me, his morbid poetry continued. I shut my eyes against the madness.

When I opened them, I seized the flowers - beating him about the head until he fled.

"Stop speaking your stupid poem!" I chased him inside. "You just ruined my day!"

Chrysanthemums and graveyard romance? This wasn't courtship-it was a séance.

4

My "gentle guidance" finally enlightened Billy about his transgressions.

Rubbing his sore cheek, he offered sincere apologies.

Yet as I surveyed the floral wreckage and Billy comfortably seated in my shop, reality dawned.

How had he infiltrated my space?

Had I been outmaneuvered?

His furtive glances held the innocence of a rescued puppy.

My lips twitched involuntarily.

This performance deserved awards. Had he taken deception seminars?

Why this relentless charade?

Surely his talents were wasted on petty revenge.