Lena's POV
The flower was on my window sill when I woke up.
A single white rose, stem trimmed cleanly, laid across the sill as though placed there with deliberate care. No note. No explanation. Just the flower and the morning light coming through the glass and the immediate, cold certainty that it hadn't come from anyone inside the house.
I sat up slowly.
The window was closed — I always kept it closed. But the latch sat at a slightly different angle than I left it each night. Someone had opened it, reached in, and laid the flower down while I slept.
While I slept.
I got up and stood over it without touching it, my heart doing something unsteady in my chest. It was beautiful, which somehow made it worse. Beautiful and deliberate and designed to communicate something specific — not th
