You stared at the small bouquet sitting in the middle of your kitchen table. Again.

The door had been locked — you knew it had. And yet, there it was, the same white lilies and soft pink roses, tied neatly with twine. A tiny card was tucked into the ribbon.

“You looked tired yesterday. Hope these make you smile.”

Your heart pounded, a little confused but also secretly thrilled.

It wasn’t just the flowers. Your coffee order had been paid for three days in a row. The barista only smirked when you asked who it was. “Tall guy. Hoodie. Cap pulled low. Just said, ‘Tell her to have a good day.’”

Tonight, you caught a glimpse of him through your apartment window — someone tall, dressed in all black, slipping away down the stairs.