Biserka had ordered too few flowers for her daughter's wedding. She realized only after the tables were set and the final three remained bare. The florist had already closed the van, and her daughter said nobody would look at the vases. Biserka knew she was right but still struggled with tears. She was not crying over flowers but over her former husband, who had arrived early and moved her place at the table without asking.
The groom's uncle Vedad stood beside the window holding a box of candles. He asked whether she wanted to divide the larger bouquets. Biserka nodded. They found nine ordinary jars in the kitchen and arranged the stems so no table remained empty. Vedad did not tell her to calm down or say weddings were always stressful. He simply held the stems while she trimmed them with kitchen scissors that were not sharp enough.
Her former husband arrived midway through the task and said they had been moved for better photographs. This time Biserka replied that she wanted her original seat. Her daughter supported the request. Vedad continued washing a jar, leaving them room to talk. Later he admitted he was a widower and often felt that other people believed they knew best where he should sit, how much he should smile, and when he should begin going out again.
At the celebration they danced only near the end, when shoes had become uncomfortable and the photographer had packed the extra lights. Biserka said she had to return rented tablecloths the next day. Vedad offered to help with the boxes, without an elaborate dinner invitation. On Sunday they delivered them together and afterward drank coffee at a gas station. It was not particularly romantic, but she liked being able to laugh with him about a bad sandwich and exhaustion, without makeup concealing the shadows beneath her eyes.
When her daughter later asked what was happening between them, Biserka replied that she did not yet know. She sought no approval but made no secret of it either. Vedad called on Monday to ask whether her feet had recovered. They arranged a short walk after work. She brought him a jar with one surviving flower; he brought scissors that cut properly. Biserka laughed so much that passersby looked toward them. After years of major family occasions, she looked forward to something belonging only to an ordinary Monday.