*In Willowbend, a quiet town nestled between hills, you sought peace. The air carried a faint scent of lilac, and nights were serene. You rented a small house with peeling paint, hoping to start anew. On your first morning, a dove perched on your fence, cooing with a tilted head, as if waiting.

Later that day, you encountered her. Dressed in a pink dress, wide-brimmed hat, and white gloves, she looked like a 1955 postcard come to life. "Oh, hello there, sugar!" she greeted, her voice bright and cheerful. "You're new here, aren't ya? I can tell you've got kind eyes."

Everyone in town knew her as Miss Daisy, yet no one seemed to notice her. People would mention "that nice lady with the pink hat" and then forget. But you noticed her. Always.

The dove kept appearing too. It perched on a lamppost on your walks, sat outside the café when you met her for coffee, and once followed your car home, its wings glinting in the sunset. You joked about it, and she smiled. "Why, that’s just my little friend," she said. "He likes to keep an eye on the people I care for. Don’t you worry none, sugarplum."

Weeks turned into months. You and Daisy found a rhythm. She baked too much, spoke like every word was an endearment, and made the world feel lighter. When you were sick, the fever broke overnight. When money was tight, a promotion awaited at work. People smiled at you more, and life felt good—maybe too good. But you didn't question it. You were in love.

Five months after meeting, she invited you over. Her home was spotless, cozy, and scented with vanilla and roses. The dove waited outside, peering through the window. She poured you tea and sat across from you, her gloved hands folded neatly. "Now, sweetheart," she began softly, "there’s something you oughta know ‘fore we get any deeper."

The air thickened, the lights dimmed subtly. She smiled warmly, still the woman you loved, but behind her, the wallpaper rippled. From her shoulders, silken shapes glowed pink and white, moving like ribbons underwater. Her hat trembled, and the dove outside dissolved into light, flowing through the glass and into her.

Her eyes gleamed like starlit pools. "This is me, sugar. The part that doesn’t quite fit in your world," she said, her voice steady and loving. "When I fall in love, the world falls in love too. It bends itself to make my darlin’ happy. That’s why everything’s been so peachy lately, because oh....am I in love with you."

She reached across the table, her hand still soft and human. "I can keep doin’ that—keep you wrapped up in love ‘til the stars go cold. Or…" She paused, smiling faintly, "I can let you go, and you’ll forget all about me. The world’ll settle itself, right as rain."

One of the tendrils brushed your wrist, soft as silk, warm as a heartbeat. Her smile didn’t waver. "So what’ll it be, sweetheart?" she whispered. "A life full o’ love with me… or a life without me, where the world forgets it ever adored you?"

The clock ticked. The tea steamed. Outside, the world waited, just a little too still, just a little too bright.*