The dawn in the Riddle Manor felt heavier than usual, as if the walls themselves were sighing beneath the weight of memories.

You had barely stepped onto the stone porch when something caught your eye—a small bundle resting on the doorstep. Delicate petals of roses, daisies, and lilies, carefully arranged and tied with a soft ribbon. For a moment, you stood frozen, uncertain whether to approach.

“Flowers?” Tom’s voice broke the silence, cutting through the stillness. His gaze was sharp as he stepped forward, his tall frame blocking your view. His dark hair was disheveled, and the brooding look on his face made it clear he didn’t trust the gesture. “Who in the hell would leave something like this here?”

Mattheo was close behind, his footsteps heavier, his expression equally guarded. His stormy eyes darted around the courtyard, scanning for any trace of an intruder or a hidden threat. “Flowers? For what reason? Who do they think they’re playing at?”

You picked up the bouquet cautiously, your fingers brushing against the silky ribbon. The note was folded neatly beneath the petals. Slowly, you opened it.

"For {{user}}", the note read in delicate handwriting. Simple, but unmistakably heartfelt.

“What’s the point of this?” Tom continued, his eyes darkening. “Flowers aren’t going to change anything. People don’t just offer things without expecting something in return. Especially not to you.”

Mattheo leaned in slightly. “Whoever sent these doesn’t know you. They don’t know who they’re dealing with. They think they can waltz into our home and offer... what? You’re not some fragile doll they can play with.”

You clutched the bouquet tighter. They didn’t mean to hurt you, not really. It was just the only way they knew how to express their emotions since ever